Clean Slate, Blank Face
by ashleigggh
Summary: Lucifer loses his memories when he crashed into Nick's body. Without a purpose, he wanders across the world searching for pieces of his memories with the Winchesters and Castiel while Angels and Demons hunt them down. Alternate Season five. Dean/Castiel, Sam/Lucifer/Gabriel, Lucifer/Gabriel, Sam/Lucifer, Sam/Gabriel.
1. Good God, Ya'all

Where is he? The man scrambles to his feet. He appears to by lying face down on the side of a road. He blinks blearily, rubbing his face, the stubble scratching at his hand. Somehow, it felt wrong. His body is tight and constricts against him, making it hard to breath.

He stumbles, leaning against a tree. The man coughs, shaking his head.

Disoriented, He clutches at his hair, ignoring the stinging sensations on his feet. He realizes a second later that he is completely_ nude_. No clothing on, _at all_. He panics a little before realizing that he does not truly care. He smooths down his hair and trudged along the dirt road.

The sun is baking, beating down on his neck. A human being can survive three days without water, his mind supplies. How long has he been here? Is it more than three days? He does not feel thirsty.

Now that he thinks about it, he is not sweating, either. He looks down at the gravel road, the sharp little rocks digging into his heels. There is blood on his feet, but the pain does not register. Is he in shock? He seems to know something about being in shock. The man with no name walked down the lonely country road.

Until a large, black car slammed into his back and sent him flying.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you lost <em>Lucifer<em>?!" Dean shouts, throwing his hands up, pacing around the tiny, stuffy motel room. Castiel frowns at his response, tilting his head.

"His signature has disappeared. I cannot seem to track him, and no further Apocalyptic signs has appeared." Castiel thinks back to Raphael's rage, the last thing the Archangel said about Lucifer's disappearance. The pain tearing through his grace and the slight, hopeful thought that Lucifer has given up the Apocalypse.

"Isn't that a_ good_ thing?" Sam looks up from packing their bags. They have stayed in this town for too long. The Angels hunting them will catch up if they do not run soon. Being hunted by Angels. A sentence Sam thought he would never say. But it is his fault, he thought darkly. If Sam did not let Lucifer out, none of this would have happened. If he had to point fingers, he would point to the moment Dean sold his soul to resurrect him.

"It's _not_ a good thing!" Dean groans into his hands. "He could be looking for you right now!" He points to Sam. If the Devil gets his hands on Sam, then everything will end.

"I'm not going to say yes to _Lucifer_!" Sam shouts back, stung from the lack of trust. Not that Sam trusts himself particularly.

"You don't know what he could do!"

"Why can't you just_ trust_ me for once!"

"The _last time_ I trusted you you let Satan out of his cage!"

Sam and Dean glared at each other, breathing heavily.

"We have to go." Castiel interrupts the brothers. "My brothers will be here soon." This is how they ended up driving down some dusty road to the middle of bumfuck, nowhereville, when Dean swerved and crashed into a naked guy walking down the middle of the road with a vacant expression on his face.

Sam screamed, Dean yells "Holy Shit!" And Castiel sat there, as nonchalant as ever while they rushed out to check if the naked(very, very naked) guy is still breathing, because they really don't need vehicular murder on top of their impressive list of crimes against everything.

"Ow." The naked guy opens his eyes, and Sam notices something really wrong. The naked guy is not injured. At all, except for small scrapes already closing up. And he is cold. Too cold to be human.

Castiel leaps onto the naked guy, sword by his throat. A small, choked sound escapes Dean's throat.

"Lucifer." Castiel hisses and Sam pulls his hand back. Too many questions weighed on his mind. Why is Lucifer here? Did he find them? Why is he _buck-ass naked_? His mind feels slightly scrambled and something doesn't quite add up right.

"What?!" Lucifer says, and Castiel presses his sword further into his throat, a foot on his chest. Dean makes a gurgling noise at the sight. "Get away from me!"

The man- Lucifer says. How did they know his name? Is that even his name? He vaguely recollects something about Sunday school and Satan. Why are they calling him Satan? He feels slightly insulted.

The sword stings against his throat, but it's sensation all right. More than he's felt all day. He blinks up at the guy in the suit.

_"What!"_ Lucifer yells, pushing the man off him. The other guy behind him catches trenchcoat sword guy, glaring at him. Floppy hair stares down at him, and he promptly covers himself up. Dean pulls Sam away from Lucifer.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I do not know," Castiel keeps his eyes trained on the fallen Archangel, who is pushing himself up and brushing away the dirt on him, one hand still covering himself.

"He doesn't seem like the Devil to me." Sam twists and looks. "Could just be another Angel." Castiel shakes his head.

"No other Angel has grace that burns cold. This is _Lucifer_."

"We don't happen to have anything that can kill him, right?" Dean asks, eyes trained warily on the naked man, who is leaning against his baby- Castiel shakes his head.

"Get your naked ass away from my_ baby!_" Dean shouts. Lucifer looks down, covering his behind with another hand, and leans back against the car again. Dean seethes.

"Dean!" Sam pulls him back. "What do we do about amnesic Satan there?"

"He does not seem to remember me. Or any of you." Castiel agrees.

"Or he could just be lying." Dean argues.

"Why would he need to lie?! If this is Amnesic Lucifer, then maybe we could convince him to _stop the Apocalypse_." Sam points to the guy, who is still completely naked and lying on top of the impala. Dean proceeds to leap towards him, which ended up with Sam and Castiel holding him back.

And this is how Sam ended up sitting in the back seat with Lucifer while his shirt covers some parts they really don't want to see again.


	2. Devil's in the Details

The car ride is as stifling and boring as any car ride could be. It's not like Lucifer has much memories of car rides to begin with. Well, it's not like he has_ any_ memories at all.

"Is my name_ really_ Lucifer?" He asks the tall, uncomfortable man besides him. The guy in the trenchcoat- Castiel, his name is Castiel, called him Lucifer. What kind of parent names their kid Lucifer, anyways?

"Uh..." Sam glances helplessly at Dean, who starts to whistle Metallica. Damn it.

"You_ are_ Lucifer." Castiel injects roughly, flapping his wings so that he ends up squashed between Lucifer and Sam. Sam yelps, jumping up a little. Lucifer backs against the door and Dean stomps on the brake, screeching to a stop.

"Holy shit Cas give a guy a _warning_!" Dean shouts from the front seat, "Baby better not be scratched!"

Lucifer stares at Castiel. The Angel stares back.

"You- you just teleported." He says weakly.

"I am an Angel of the Lord. I_ flew_." Castiel did not understand Lucifer's reaction. Surly the older Archangel knew the basics of flying. At least he should be able to feel his wings.

"I...really am the _Devil_?!" Lucifer sounds a little high pitched. He presses further against the door.

"Yeah, you are-" Dean interrupts. "Cas, get back to the front seat. Can we all just let me drive in peace?!" He ignores Castiel's disgruntled look, opting to turn the music up as loud as he could.

"Oh. _Oh_." Lucifer says, eyes wide and staring into space.

"It's not that bad?" Sam offers, patting his back awkwardly. This is definitely not how he expected his first meeting with Lucifer to go. Ever since Castiel told him about how Sam was meant to be Lucifer's vessel, Sam imagined the Devil coming to him, forcing him in some way or the other to say the big yes.

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably and Sam pats him again, for good measure, before shifting in his seat. Lucifer shuffled away from the guy- Sam. He taps his feet nervously, looking out of the window as the fields passed buy. How should he react? It's not every day you wake up and find out that you are_ Satan_. The Devil. He is _the_ Devil. He glances at the other occupants of the car. Sam avoids looking at him, Dean- the driver clenches his hands around the wheel, and the Angel- Castiel is as blank as ever.

The Devil, an Angel, and two humans sit in a car. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. Lucifer chews at his lips. Why should he just believe what they said? Random strangers who ran him over and kidnapped him. Maybe they are all just crazy. Maybe he is going insane.

Lucifer closes his eyes, trying to will himself to wake up from this nightmare. He opens his eyes again. Still in the car. Besides, despite how much he wants to deny it, Lucifer could see their point. He did not sweat. He is not thirsty despite not drinking anything. He is not hungry, and the car crash did not even leave a scratch on him. He groans, voice muffled by the classic rock blaring out of the car stereo, holding his face in his hands and pulling on short blond hair. It's unfair. Lucifer thinks. Why does it have to be him.

He tries to reconcile himself with the image of pure evil people has conjured up, bitter taste in his mouth. He's never felt so lonely before, condemned by something he did not even remember doing. He can feel it in the air, too. Sam, the large man that keeps shooting him wary looks. Dean, who is obviously against having him here in the first place. And Castiel, the Angel. What makes him an Angel? The good guy? Castiel tried to kill him. That was probably justified. Sam pats his back, the gesture lingering on his skin.

"Hey Cas-" Dean says loudly from the front seat. "Any luck finding the big upstairs guy yet?" He asks, attempting to cut through the tension in the car. Driving like this is pretty damn uncomfortable.

God. Lucifer thought weakly. If he existed then God must exist. And Heaven. And Hell and Angels and _everything_ in between. The_ sheer scope_ of all this crashes down upon him, and he felt another wave of resentment at the world around him._ Let it burn._

"No. I cannot find him. Not yet." Castiel glances back at Lucifer's still form. He knows that he should stay, to keep an eye on the fallen Archangel, but he itched to search for his missing father, to do something against the oncoming Apocalypse. Castiel had been hopeful, that Lucifer's missing memories will halt the war, but it does not seem so. Heaven and Hell pushed against each other, eager to end things once and for all. And when, when, not if Lucifer gains his memories back then he would turn on them as well. Castiel should go. The sooner he finds God, the better.

"Take this." He stuffs Uriel's blade in Dean's pocket. "I need to leave. Now." Dean stops, and looks down at the silver sword quizzically. If he takes the sword, then Cas will be unarmed. "I have my own." Castiel whispers against the music. "Take this, in case." The Hunter and the Angel shares a glance. Just in case Lucifer goes Apocalyptic on them. The sword would probably not do much good against him, but it's heavy weight is as reassuring as it could be.

With a nod, Castiel disappears to the sound of wings against the wind. Dean starts up the car again, ignoring Sam's inquiring gaze at the sword.

He doesn't know what kind of weird kinship thing they have going on in the backseat, Dean does not trust Lucifer, memory loss or not.

Lucifer leans back on the leather seat, determined to not let the hurt from seeing the exchange bleed into his face. Of course they are not going to trust him. He is the Devil, after all. No matter what, evil is in his nature.


	3. On the Wings of War

They pull up into the town, stopping at a broken bridge just outside. "Looks like we're walking, boys." Dean sighs loudly. Bobby called him just earlier, Rufus calling him about a particular hunt. An abandoned town, it seems. And Demons. Sam rifles through his back pack, pulling out some of his clothes and hoping that it would be enough.

"Can't have him wandering around completely naked." He whispers to Dean, who scowls and refuses to let Lucifer wear his clothes, which would probably fit him better.

"Don't I get anything to protect myself with?" Lucifer asks, looking around as he pulls on Sam's clothing, hiking up the pants that are threatening to fall off. At least he has clothes on.

"No!" Dean glares. "You can protect yourself just fine."

"Dean!" Sam chides, and hands Lucifer a knife. Not Ruby's knife, just a regular knife, but the sight of Lucifer with a knife sends shivers down Dean's spine. He could just imagine that guy stabbing them in the back as soon as the first Demon bows down to him.

"Since when are you so _chummy_ with Satan?" Dean hisses at Sam, grabbing his arm and pulling him away while Lucifer trips over his pants legs in the background.

"He seems pretty harmless!" Sam whispers back, Lucifer desperately trying to untangle himself from Sam's shirt. Dean glares at him.

"Don't forget _who_ he is, Sammy." Sam has a tendency to sympathize with _monsters_. Dean can see no way this is ending in anything else but a world of hurt for all of them.

"Don't forget that he'll wear you to prom as soon as he gets his memories back." "What if we can help him change his mind somehow?!" Sam lowers his voice.

"Dean, _please_- we can _save_ the world this way!" For the first time in a long time, Sam has hopes. Lucifer has no memories. If he manages to gain his trust, and show Lucifer that humanity is worth saving, then everything could go_ right_ for once. Sam is also selfish. He thinks that if the_ Devil_ could be redeemed, then there has to be hope for a monster like_ Sam_, right?

"I'm trying to look out for you!" Dean raises his voice.

"You need to trust me to look out for myself, Dean!" Sam points to himself, anger bubbling in his stomach. "Look what happened last time I trusted you!" Dean points to Lucifer.

"You-" "Should I just go?" Lucifer inches away from the brothers.

"No!" Both Winchesters turns to Lucifer, who raised his hands, backing away from them, eyebrows raised.

"We go in guns blazing, and we hunt the Demons. Got it?" Dean barks, breathing hard after the argument. Fighting with Sam is always hard. But he has to do it. It is his job to protect Sam, from himself if necessary. Lucifer is an dangerous addition to their group, and the rift he seems to put through him and Sam just makes Dean more determined to prove that Lucifer is not as curable as Sam seems to think.

"Watch out for black eyes," Sam turns to Lucifer and warns him. There is a connection between then, he thinks. He ignores the implications of him being a vessel for Lucifer.

"Black eyes?"

"Demons. They have black eyes. Regular Demons, anyways."

"Black eyes. Right." Lucifer shuffles awkwardly, holding the knife. It's too short and small for his hands. He eyes the sword Dean is holding, feeling the slight hum of power from the blade. He is the Devil, right? The why does he not have black eyes, then?

"Shouldn't I have black eyes, then?" He turns to Sam. Lucifer feels more comfortable around Sam than he is around Dean. There is just something about Dean that bothers him. He is too warm, and the air around him burns.

"Technically..." Sam falls besides Lucifer, unnerved by how easy it is to interact with him. "You are an Angel. Fallen, but still an Angel."

Angel, yes. Lucifer remembers. An Angel- somehow, having someone acknowledge that he is something other than evil feels good. It makes him feel like he could keep going.

"Angel my ass." Dean commented sourly, a step in front of his brother and Lucifer, and Lucifer stops in his tracks, a stab of pain searing through his mind. Dean's words overlapped with a voice, a voice he just wants to reach out to, to grab and hold and lose himself too.

_You're a monster, Lucifer_. The voice says, vibrating through the air, pushing him _down_ and away and he couldn't breathe. The sun is too bright behind his eyelids. He keeps them shut, the orange glow piercing his sight, his head pounding to sounds of lost memories. Something is blocking him, and pain explodes again and again in his mind.

"Lucifer? Lucifer!" Sam spins around in surprise after Lucifer falls to the ground, clutching his head and groaning. Sam is surprised, at the sheer amount of distress he felt at Lucifer's pain. Sam is attached, Lucifer a magnet pulling him closer and closer. Seeing him in danger tugs at something inside Sam. All he wants to do is be by his side, take away his pain. The strength of these feelings are overwhelming. Sam sinks down to his knees by Lucifer's side, hand on his shoulder. He can leave the self-evaluation for later.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean runs over. Hey, what he said was true. Lucifer is no Angel, if it took so much bloodshed to just raise him out of Hell. He never really expected such a reaction. Sam rushes to Lucifer's side and a bitter taste fills Dean's mouth. Seeing Sam so close to Lucifer

(_Seeing someone else touching his little brother)_- Dean blinks the weird thoughts out of his head.

"He just dropped, man-" Sam pulls Dean down, pressing a hand to Lucifer's chest. His heart is still beating, but it's just the vessel's heart. The Angel inside could be hurt. Lucifer groans, tilting his head, and Sam feels a flood of relief(he really need some self-evaluation later.

It was war. In the end, it was_ war_ the fabled horseman of the Apocalypse who did this, turn an innocent town upon one another, making people believe that the others they slaughtered were Demons. Dean toys with the ring in his hand.

A man breaks down- he killed his wife, his child.

"You thought they were _Demons_." Sam says, "It's not your fault."

Dean wants to point to Lucifer and say that all this is exactly _his_ fault. It's because of them that the whole town is covered in blood and that all these innocent people cannot live their lives in blissful ignorance anymore.

"How did War get out if _you_ didn't get him out?" Dean questions Lucifer.

"I don't know." Lucifer knew something was up with the guy as soon as he saw him. He radiated some sort of unknown energy, hungry and powerful and it sets him on edge. He winks at Lucifer, as if knowing _something_ he doesn't.

He pulls Sam and Dean away from the survivors into a corner, voicing his suspicions.

Dean doubts what Lucifer said at first. Turns out he was right. Whatever, he scowls at the ground. That doesn't mean the Devil is playing for their field now. Sam trusts too easily, but Dean knows that some day, sooner or later, the other shoe will drop, and Lucifer will show his true colors. There is a tension in the car after they drive off.

Meeting Lucifer has stirred something in his mind, something decidedly unnatural, like someone blew the dust off long locked memories. He keeps this development from Sam, opting instead to turn the music up and drive.


	4. Take a howl at the moon

Castiel flits into a Church in a small town, sunlight streaking across the stained glass. The Angel looks up at the figure of his father. The humans describes him as an old man in a white robe. He supposes that a face is better than none. God's true face is too loud and bright even for the Angels to comprehend, just like how only select humans can see an Angel's true face, only the Archangels have seen what their father truly looks like.

Castiel glances around the Church at the sermon, keeping himself shielded from human sight. The Angels here are drawn with delicate features and large, bird like wings sprouting from their backs. They could not be more wrong. Castiel himself is as tall as some of the largest buildings here, his many wings reflecting the elements. His body is light and frequency. And he is just a regular, some might say '_garden-variety'_ Angel.

The pastor on the stage blesses the crowd. Castiel casts his glance upon their souls. The majority of the souls are good, some tarnished, but there can be no life without sin. Some are brighter than others, the souls of children burned like small stars. Life will gradually wear them down. Put marks upon them, but they will be no less beautiful. Souls are wondrous things, and Dean's soul is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Castiel pieced it together bit by bit, infusing his grace into the deep crevices that he cannot fix, and, in return, small pieces of Dean's soul in-bedded themselves into Castiel's grace. Dean has his mark on Castiel, much like how Castiel has his mark on Dean.

"Do you believe in Angels?" He manifests before the priest in a sudden bout of bravery. The man squawks, spinning around to face Castiel. The Angel tilts his head. Humans seem to like that motion.

"Wha- Wha-?" The man stutters, hands reaching up to the white band in his collar. Castiel manifests his wings, and the priest drops to his knees in surprise.

"There is no need to fear me. You are a man of God, and I have questions for you."

"My God." The priest breathes, leaning weakly against the wall. "My God." "You are a good man." A righteous man. Castiel could see the mark on his soul. The mark of Azrael rests upon his soul like a heavy cloud, disguising the purity beneath it. His soul is remarkably blemish-less, and Castiel hopes that it remains this way. Castiel has hoped that his father would be somewhere near here. He's heard of the recent small miracles that cropped up from time to time in this seemingly small and forgettable town. Dean's pendant remains cool against his chest, and his heart sinks. It seems that his father does not want to be found. With a heavy heart, Castiel wipes the man's memories and shielded himself yet again.

"Annael." He nods once, appearing before his fallen sister. It is rare, almost unheard of, for a fallen Angel to gain their grace back once more. Annael was the exception. She was his garrison leader, once. Strong, silent and powerful and he holds much respect for her.

"Hello, Castiel." She says, hidden from the humans she is watching.

"You are interfering with their lives."

"I am saving people, Castiel." Anna turns to her younger brother, seeing the taints in his grace. Small, gray cracks in the white-blue light and her heart aches. Falling will be a painful experience, one that she hopes Castiel will never experience.

"We are supposed to observe."

"I've abandoned my posts long ago, Castiel. Are you still searching for God?" Castiel nods. Anna shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, brother. Our father is not here." Castiel looks down in disappointment. He is losing his will, fast. Everywhere he goes all he gets in return is the increasingly loud voice in his mind saying that _God_ has abandoned them all, the Angels, the Humans, the realm itself.

"Lucifer was with you. I can feel his grace on you." Castiel frowns, wiping away the remnants of Lucifer's grace on him.

"Thank you, sister."

"Don't thank me, brother." Annael turns her face towards Castiel, hair too red in the sun. "Lucifer's grace is bound by something. Something more powerful than an Archangel."

"What do you mean,_ bound_?" Castiel asks, the sudden spring of hope welling up in his head. Annael shakes her head.

"I do not know, brother. But I can feel it. It's a binding sigil. Lucifer should not be able to do much with his powers except for self defense. This is good news, brother."

"Yes, good news." Castiel thinks. Only two beings in all of creation can bind an Archangel so effortlessly like that. He has more hope than he has for the last few weeks combined.

"Good luck, Castiel." Annael says softly, turning her attentions back on the humans.

"Thank you, sister. I understand." He takes flight.

"Hello, Sister." The priest appears before the Angel with the sound of wings.

"Azrael." Anna tenses. "What do you want."

"Oh, to thank you and Castiel for helping me find my vessel, that is all." The elderly man shrugs, snapping up a black suit. "The game has changed, after all."

* * *

><p>The Archangel and the human stares at each other awkwardly without Sam acting as a filter between them. Dean coughs lightly, looking at his brother's sleeping form. Sam needs rest for all the things he went through, but Dean remains restless, unable to sleep. His body is irritatingly warm, but, nope, no fever. Bottom line, Dean has no idea what is wrong with him and he is stuck with the Devil while Sam snores away, dead to the world.<p>

"Can't sleep, huh?" Dean asks Satan. Freakin' Satan. God this is weird.

"Can't seem to." Lucifer answers. He wants to sleep, truthfully. Sleeping seems like a nice thing to do. And now he is stuck with Dean in the land of the waking. Dean makes him uncomfortable in the strangest ways.

"I'm grabbing a drink." Dean tells Lucifer, grabbing his coat on the way out. Thankfully, they are in a relatively large town/city hybrid thing and it has plenty of bars. A bar crawl seems like a great idea right about now. Lucifer tilts his head at him in a way that reminds him of Cas, and superimposing the two Angels on one another is just weird as fuck.

"top staring at me, man." Dean walks out the motel room. Lucifer follows him across the awful pink floral print carpets.

"Dude! Stop following me!" Dean throws his hands up in the lounge, getting various curious looks from the motel staff.

"Why not?" Lucifer grins and Dean groans.

"Fine, you can come with me on the bar crawl. Should be easier to get drunk with you around."


	5. Dance in the Dark

"What is a bar crawl?" Lucifer asks. So many things seem unfamiliar to him now, foreign, even. Yet others are familiar. It confuses him. The only constants in his short time of actually remembering anything is Dean and Sam and the impala.

"Luce." Dean places a hand on his shoulder and Lucifer jumps a little, feeling a spark course through his body. "You have much to learn, young Padawan." Lucifer frowns.

"I don't-"

"That's it." Dean says. No matter how much he dislikes the Devil, he has a_ duty_ to that poor man. "We, are going to have so much fun."

Alcohol, Lucifer finds, is a strange, strange thing. Dean seems to open up with more and more of the substance in his system. The liquids are warm and slides down his throat with a slight burn. After a few drinks at the first bar, Lucifer declares that he prefers the cocktail drinks with bright colors and paper umbrellas better than the amber liquids Dean is downing shot by shot. Dean scoffs and calls him a girl.

"I don't see why these drinks would make me female?" Lucifer cups his face in confusion. The girl besides him snorts, almost choking on her drink.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean's says, eyes drifting to her chest.

"Don't bother, big boy," She grins, leaning over Lucifer to face Dean. "You're not my type."

"I can be you're type any day," Dean purrs, winking.

"Fraid you have the wrong equipment there, _buddy_." She laughs, sauntering out of the bar.

"Damn." Dean whistles. He does not seem displeased at being 'shot down.' Lucifer orders another drink, a different one, this time. The glass is tall and the pink liquid is fizzing and fruity. He likes it. "Dude, what's up with you and girly drinks?" Dean scoots over.

"I like the _taste_." Lucifer glances around the bar at the other patrons. People are so strange, different. He can almost see into them, into their souls and see their secrets, everything good and everything bad and something ugly stirs inside him. He wants to _burn_them all. He blinks, shaking that thought away, gulping down his drink in one fluid motion.

"No one drinks for the_ taste_, my man." Dean pats his back, words slurring and hand heavy. They were at their third bar already, with more drinks than they could count in their system.

"Then why do they drink?" Dean snorts.

"To forget, mostly."

"Is that why _you_ drink?"

"God, no!" Dean laughs, looking uncomfortable. "Let's talk about something else. Sam? Lets talk about Sam. What do you think of Sammy?" Dean fires off the questions. Lucifer thinks. The alcohol is a warm buzz in his veins, making his head slightly heavy and his tongue too big for his mouth. What does he think about Sam.

"He's- he's" Lucifer slurs "_Cold_." He blinks. "_Nice_ an' cold. I _like_ the cold." He tugs the collar of his shirt- well, Sam's shirt. The smell of it is strong, and it smells like Sam, and Lucifer's face flushes a little.

"Weird." Dean sprawls against the counter, ordering another drink."Sounds like Luci's got a crush!" Dean laughs to himself. "Sammy's my_ baby bro_, man. I gotta look out for him. Gotta s-save him."

"My brother never tried to save me." Lucifer blurts out without even thinking, something in him constricting tightly, so much that it hurts. "He _hates_ me."

"Your _brother_?" Dean sits up. "You remember?" The thought of Lucifer gaining his memories back is like a bucket of cold water to his head.

"N-not much-" Lucifer's head is spinning now, like a dam threatening to overflow. "Some things. Maybe. A little."

"What do you remember?" Dean grabs Lucifer by his shoulders, dragging them out of them bar and eliciting strange glances from the other patrons. The early morning air chills him to the bone and Lucifer takes to it like a nature, breathing in the freezing air, letting his lungs expand.

"Nothing much." He rubs his head, the front of his mind throbbing with pain. "A name, I think._ Michael_." Dean's eyes widens for a fraction of a second.

"Oh." He coughs into his hand. "That's rough, buddy." He directs Lucifer to the next bar down the road in the particularly seedy street. Hell's belles, the red neon lights blinked on and off, a small drawing of a cartoonish Devil on the front door.

"Hope you feel right at home here!" Dean jokes, the laugh not reaching his voice. He is shaken by their previous encounter. Lucifer orders another drink, this one bright red. It burns his tongue, hard and harsh and his vision swims for a second. The duo stumble out of the bar, clutching on to each other for support.

Dean wakes up to Sam slapping his face and rocks digging into his ass.

"Huh?" He groans, rubbing his eyes, the pounding headache in his brain getting worse by the second.

"Dean! Wake up!" Sam drags Dean up, hauling him into the impala.

"M' got a _headache_." Dean mumbles, clutching his head and leaning against the window, the cool glass not doing anything to help. Sam makes a face.

"Your own fault, Dean." He comments and Dean sticks up his middle finger. He is an adult and can damn well drink as much as he want to without Sammy making a bitchface at him.

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam drives off with his brother besides him, heading off to a new town. Just like they used to, before this whole Apocalypse thing came about. Talking about the Apocalypse-

"Hey, Dean, do you have the feeling that we forgot something?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean cranes his neck, peeking into the back seat. The empty back seat. Shit.

"I think we forgot Lucifer." Sam opens his mouth, but the loud, familiar ringing of mullet rock blasting from Dean's phone cut off anything he was about to say.

"Hello, _Deano_," A sultry voice calls out, giggling. Dean fumes, knowing exactly who this is. The fact that it sounded like that girl from the bar unnerved him. Was that Meg or did she possess her?

"Meg." He growls at the Demon. "What the hell do you want?"

"_Well_." Meg inspects her fingernails, head tilting to one side, catching the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. "You've been a very naughty boy, Dean. Imagine how I felt when I found out you snapped the wings of my _father_."

She glances wistfully to Lucifer, tied to the seat of the truck with various Angel binding sigils all over him. She was not quite sure if they can bind an Archangel, but Lucifer remains all tied up and passed out with blood on his face, so she can say safely that they work.

"Damn you." Dean growls, feeling a surge of red hot anger rise up in him, spreading to the rest of his body. The air around him heats up and the insistent buzzing noise grows louder. The hangover headache is all but forgotten. "You let him go."

"If I do that, who's gonna keep this fight going?" Meg laughs, sharp and loud. "Toodles, Deano. Catch me if you can!"


	6. The thing we left behind

"Shit!" Sam swears after hearing the exchange, slamming the breaks and parking on the side of the road. They tumble out, Dean leaning against the sleek black car with his head in his hands.

"What the hell Sammy?!"

"Do you know where Lucifer is?" Sam panics a little. Lucifer could have gained his memories back and ran away to set fire on the world again. And after all this time, Sam finds that he really doesn't want to treat Lucifer like an enemy again.

"Shit. No." Dean thinks back. The night blurs into a cacophony of colors and sounds and not much else.

"Meg got him, I think." Meg is one of those 'Lucifer loyalist Demons' right? Means that she would at least try_not _to kill him.

"What do we do?" Sam asks, frustrated. "How did you manage to get Lucifer kidnapped!"

"I was drunk! We call Cas."

Castiel abandons his search immediately, flying over to Sam and Dean. Lucifer, despite all he has done was still his brother and Castiel could remember the time when he was newly made and all the younger angels will flit to Lucifer for his light was so bright.

"Where is he? What happened?" Castiel asks, stretching his grace to search for Lucifer. Even with his powers bound Lucifer should still glow like a beacon to him, being an Archangel, now that Castiel has come into contact with him.

"I cannot sense him, there must be sigils on him that hides him away." Castiel says, frustrated that he cannot help.

"So what do we do?" Sam asks, with the usual concerned puppy dog look on his face and Dean thinks that maybe Sam is getting a little too close to Lucifer. Definitely_ too close_. Dean should intervene.

"I do not know." Castiel shakes his head.

"Well, I know someone who could help."

Bobby was, as they have predicted, rightfully enraged.

"Why didn't none of you ever thought about telling me about, oh, living with _Lucifer_ for the past two days?!" Sam and Dean looked down at their feet.

"Lucifer has been relatively harmless-" Bobby gave the Angel such a withering glare that even Castiel shut up for a bit.

"How did you even meet?" Bobby sighs, setting down a glass of cheap whiskey.

"Uh..." Sam looks to Dean, his brother sharing the exact same uncomfortable facial expression. Dean, as predictable as ever, lost the paper scissors rock competition. Sam feels a little smug as Dean swore under his breath and Bobby raises his eyebrows.

"I hit him with the impala." Dean confesses. "In my defense, he was naked at the time. And Amnesic. Still amnesic right now, actually."

"Naked?" Bobby asks, the morbid curiosity getting to him.

"Like, completely naked." Dean waved his hands up and down.

Sam coughs, trying to not think about Lucifer lying down on the gravel, all bleary and looking at Sam and the sun shining down and how his body is all glowing in the light- Nope. He is not going to pop a confused fallen Archangel induced boner here. If Dean found out Sam would _never_ live it down. Ever. Lucifer had that confused little stare, and his eyes are pretty damn blue.

Not like Castiel blue, more like a lighter, _icy_ blue- Sam pinches himself. He will definitely have a talk with his brain later. There is a time and place for sudden self evaluation about a definitely unwanted attraction to the devil. And it's not the body, either. Because if it is just the body then he could just say that Lucifer picked a damn_ hot_vessel and be done with it.

Nope, it's also the way he_ acted_, his goddamn _personality_ so different to what Sam has expected, but it all has to come to an end. Because whoever that was that Sam has these feelings on, it's not Lucifer. It's a guy with no memories at all that woke up to the impala crashing into his backside and being told by an Angel that he is the Devil. The real Lucifer would probably just laugh at Sam and use his attraction as a way to get him to say yes. It would be better for them all if Sam just stops thinking about him that way.

"-Sam?" Dean waves a hand in front of his face and Sam jerks a little, jumping back into the real world.

"Huh?" Sam jumps, blinking at Dean and Castiel's sudden confused look.

"You okay there, boy?" Bobby asks.

"He was thinking about my _brother_ naked." Castiel blurts out, like's just something normal to say in the middle of any conversation. Dean's falls out of his chair, ass in the air. Bobby spits the whiskey across the table, clutching at the edges of the wood, wheezing with laughter. Sam gave a choked squeak, face burning red. Castiel tilts his head and frowns.

"Oh my God Cas you can't just say something like that in the middle of a conversation-" Dean laughs, slapping his knee and leaning on Sam.

"Do not blaspheme, Dean." Castiel says, all neutral and serene and slightly disapproving and Dean laughs even harder. Sam turns so red that he would put a tomato plant to shame.

"D-does that mean I have to give the Devil the shovel talk?" Dean's face is as red as Sam's, from laughter rather than embarrassment.

"Dean!" Sam protests.

"Anyways, do you have any way to find him?" Sam turns to Bobby, who has, fortunately, calmed down. Bobby grunts, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"Can't your Angel here help?" Bobby turns to Castiel, pointedly pushing the image of Sam, who is something of a son to him, lusting after Satan himself out of his mind. Castiel shakes his head.

"There are 'angel-proofing' sigils, I believe. I cannot sense him. Lucifer's power is bound-"

"Wait, his powers are bound?" Dean frowns, pulling a chair up and sitting down. "How?"

"I do not know." Castiel chews on his bottom lip, shrugging helplessly in the human gesture. "I believe out Father may have something to do with it."

"You mean our father who art not Heaven? That one?" Bobby asks, pouring shots for him, Dean and Sam. They would probably need it, if the conversations are going the way they are. Castiel nods.

"Why would God bind Lucifer's powers?" Sam questions, looking up at Castiel. Castiel shrugs again.

"Maybe he wants Lucifer to _learn a lesson_." Dean tells them. Castiel sucks in a breath, eyeing Dean like he has never seen him before. It was the way he worded it, the way he said it. Castiel was frightened for a moment there. In that small window of time, Dean sounded like _Michael_, and his vessel's heart almost burst out of his chest. He pokes at Dean with his grace, finding no trace of Michael's power, nothing strange except for a small warm mark curled up deep in his soul, _nothing_ strange considering Dean is Michael's vessel. Castiel forces himself to calm down.


	7. Say it ain't so

"Hello there, Father."

Lucifer blinks awake to black eyes bearing down at him, something like pity and sadness and incredible amounts of love shining through them. The girl- a 'meatsuit' he reminded himself, sighs sadly at his confusion.

"What have they done to you, _father_?" She asks, her fingers lightly touching his face in an almost reverent way. Lucifer backs away in disgust. There is just something about this creature that makes him want to shrink back into his skin or lash out with rage, there issomething dirty and wrong and ultimately human about her.

"I will break the bindings_ they_ put on you," She says, almost giddily. "And restore you to your former _glory_."

"I'd rather not." Lucifer tells the(Obviously crazy) Demon. "I like it this way." As much as Lucifer would like actually remembering most of his life, he imagined that it was probably not good. Most likely not good, given that he is known as Satan/The Devil/The ultimate Evil by most of humanity. Humanity can go screw itself, Lucifer thinks bitterly. But he is still wary of regaining his memories. He knows that there will be baggage, lots of it that comes with his forgotten past. Maybe being a blank slate like this is a blessing in disguise.

"We will win, father." The Demon grins, taking out a bottle of tequila.

"Want any?"

"I think I've had my fill." Lucifer answers dryly.

"Suit yourself." Meg takes a long gulp and sighs, swaggering out of the room. She, and her father, Azazel- they worked so hard to finally release their creator, Lucifer, yet the Winchesters still defeated them, capturing Lucifer and turning him into a shadow of what he should have been. Lucifer is their God, Hell's creator and savior. That fact is pounded into her mind ever since Azazel took her in as a fresh, young Demon. Meg is lucky, to have Lucifer's General choose her as his child.

Her father is dead, and now, it is up to Meg to restore Lucifer to his rightful place. Because the man there, the one bound by the crude bindings she scrawled in blood, the one who did not even fight back properly when she approached him- that man is not Lucifer, not her father's God. He is the man warming Lucifer's seat. And when she does bring him back, she will be rewarded. Meg smiles, twirling her borrowed brown hair between her fingertips. Yes. This is a game she could play.

Lucifer sleeps. It's such a strange, deplorably human thing to do. The binding sigils tingles against his skin, it's constant presence itchy and uncomfortable. He wants to, needs to move, to feel the wind against his skin. He shifts, the chair tilting. The least she could have done is untie him. Lucifer thinks of Sam and Dean. The people who found him. Castiel, the Angel. His brother. Castiel is his brother. This is all so surreal.

He falls asleep, the rope leaving burns on skin that is not his, and wakes up in a garden maze. The sky above his head is endlessly blue, like someone has taken a paintbrush and painted the skies with every blue they can find. His feet is bare against the soft tickle of grass on the palms of his feet. The ropes are gone, the bindings no longer there. Lucifer breathes, looking around him.

Tall hedges rises up all around him, a deeper green compared to the light grass. It's a maze of emerald leaves, and Lucifer follows the hidden paths. It's his own dream yet he is hopelessly lost. If this is real life then hours have passed and yet the sky is still blue and the sun did not move from it's previous spot in the sky. A phantom ache crawls up his legs, making him want to stop.

Lucifer reaches a turn, bumping into a man with brown hair and kind eyes in a tailored suit and there is just something about him that makes him want to fall to his knees and sing his praises and punch him and kick andd scream.

"Oh-" He says, the man turning and smiling at him, eyes crinkling, mouth tugging his beard up. This is God, Lucifer thought numbly, and wonders if he will not live to wake up again. In the stories, no matter how charismatic or tragic or resonating the Devil is, God _always_ wins, and life is just another story.

Lucifer does not want to die. Not many people want to die, really. His life has been so short, in terms of memories he made and Lucifer wants to ask God to let him go back and make more memories, with the hunter that likes classic rock and classic cars, and the tall man with long, floppy hair that lets him borrow his clothes and has a smile like the sun.

"I am sorry," God says, and Lucifer stares. This. This is surreal. The man is God and he is sure of it, but why is he apologizing to him? What could a God be sorry for? Lucifer wakes up before the dream could finish, gasping for breath, his heart pounding against his ribcage. It was real, he was sure of it- but the sheer absurdity of it made him feel like he just escaped death, and perhaps he did. Maybe God was going to kill him after all.

* * *

><p>Meg drags him off into a truck she stole, briefly untying him from the chair. Lucifer made a run for it, arms and legs still tied together. Another Demon accompanied them.<p>

Random Demonic Minion Number One. RDMN1.

Lucifer ran for it. More like he jumped for it, arms and legs still tied together, Meg chasing after him and RDMN1 losing his shit on the corner of the abandoned street.

They managed to catch him, eventually, and tie him to the seat of the truck, with Meg driving and RDMN1 watching Lucifer like he is either a miracle or a curse.


	8. In Humanity We Trust

Anna flies, as fast and as hard as she could, her brothers and sisters chasing after her, shouting frantic orders in Enochian. Specks of grace flies away from the cuts in her skin, bubbling to the surface of her bruises. Her wings arches against the upper atmosphere, pushing up and down, up and down against the clouds. To anyone that was looking they are shooting stars, falling through the skies.

The sun leaves a bright sheen across everything. Anna cries out when one of her brothers struck her left wing. She turns and grabs a handful of his wing, twisting the grace with her bare hands. She escapes, but barely, ignoring the screaming pain in her wing. She has to leave and run, to stop what Heaven is attempting to do. Anna loses her pursuers somewhere above the forests of Germany.

She crashes into the grass and wood, silently thankful that there are no humans near here. The earth smelled like fresh grass after a rainstorm and lingering lightening. Anna refuses to let such a beautiful place come to ruin just because of Heaven and Lucifer's spat.

She was there, too, during the first great civil war, where all the Angels first learned what _fear_ and _death_ and _betrayal_ was. When they first opened the weaponry and forged the first silver blades that cut swaths amongst their siblings. Heaven was never the same after the first war. Anna knows that Earth does not need to know the pain and bloodshed. Lucifer and Michael will bring the Apocalypse upon these humans, these curious, vulnerable creatures that required protection more than anything. They, Anna thought, are Angels. Are they not supposed to _love_, to _protect and serve_?

Her time as a Anna Milton has given her insight to what being a human is like. So much emotion, so much confusion and yet the sheer amount of potential a single human has astounds her.

Humans have faults and flaws, much more than Angels. They are arrogant and sinful and blasphemous, they love too much and hurt too easily. But they try. They try so hard and that is all that matters. And, as much as she liked being an Angel, Anna found that she prefers to be human, to be able to taste, to feel, to love as humans do. Perhaps when this is all over.

But now, she has an Apocalypse to stop.

Killing Sam and Dean Winchester will be off tables- the Archangels will piece them together, twist time- they will destroy her with a single thought, and Anna liked being alive too much to risk it. And if the Archangels do not kill her Castiel, and the other hunters they work with will definitely try. But there is another way. If this is a game, then all she has to do is to take an important player off the playing field. Michael is off limits- he is in Heaven, brooding, plotting, doing whatever he does.

Ever since the fall of Lucifer Michael disappeared from Heaven's radar, only putting out orders through Naomi and Zachariah and other high class Seraphs. A Dominion like her will not even be able to get close to him without risking utter and total annihilation.

But Lucifer, yes. Anna pulled herself up slowly, leaning against a large tree, it's rough bark scraping her skin. She masks her grace. Lucifer is on Earth, in a vessel. A vessel that could be killed, if she is _careful_ enough, _lucky_ enough.

Anna _needs_ to kill Lucifer to save this world that she has gotten so attached to. She would need a weapon. A weapon that could kill Archangels. Their swords come into mind, for only an Angel could kill another Angel, and only an Archangel could kill another Archangel. Getting her hands on an Archangel sword is nigh impossible. Michael has one, and Raphael has another- even attempting to come near Heaven will be a suicide mission. Anna looks to the sprawling cosmos for guidance, the twinkling of stars that has inspired so many great human writers and philosophers and scientists.

The answer came to her. A weapon forged by another extraordinary human being- Samuel Colt. _The Colt_ is was called. A whispered urban legend amongst even the most seasoned hunters. A gun that could kill anything. Anna disliked guns, preferring the grace and fluidity of swords and the like. But for this mission, she will find this colt. Anna will need help. Preferably help from hunters. The Winchester brothers come into mind, as she is most familiar with them. No.

They are vessels, and vessels of Archangels, at that. She cannot lead them close to Lucifer. Someone close to them, then. With a flap of her exhausted wings, Anna locates the hunters she requires help from. As predicted, they pumped shots of rock salt and threw holy water at her. She steps across the salt lines and devil traps.

"I mean no harm." She says, quiet. The women exchanged glances and kept their distances, holding out their weapons in front of them.

"I am an Angel."

"What does an Angel want to do with _us_?" The elder one asks, distrust clouding her face and her soul. Her soul is a righteous one, a good one- another one of the few true righteous people in the world.

"Mom! We should hear what she has to say!" The younger one whispers, eyes flickering between her mother and Anna. Her soul is bright and fresh and good. Anna hopes that it stays that way.

"Please. I have need of you- of your help- Ellen, Joanna-" Surprise dances across their features at the mention of their names.

"Right- what's that?" Ellen Harvelle asks. She does not yet trust Anna, and is halfway to the point of slamming her hand down upon the Angel Banishing sigil painted on the wall with blood.

"I need you to help me locate a gun that could kill Lucifer." Anna decides to be honest. Honesty is something good, something that should be valued. Joanna draws in a breath, eyes widening and Ellen takes a step back, closer to the sigil.

"Please. This is the last resort- the only way-"

"We'll do it!" Joanna blurts out and Anna throws a grateful smile at her.

"Joanna Beth Harvelle!" Ellen scolded, but she too made up her mind. They turn to Anna.

"We'll do it." Anna smiles. She can surly accomplish her task with the Harvelles helping her.

"Then we start now."


	9. Wayward Sons

Sam groans awake. He fell asleep in the impala. It's not uncommon, in their long drives and searches for cases. The tension in the car is high. He wanted too find Lucifer, so did Castiel. To his surprise, Dean did not suggest just leaving Lucifer with Meg.

"You said we can stop the Apocalypse if we make good with Lucifer, right?" Dean tells him, but Sam is not convinced. Dean seems determined, too determined- like he is trying to make up for some wrong-doing. Sam knows that look. The Motel room is bland like every other Motel room they have been in. The Hunters charges in, guns pointed at the brothers, backing them against the wall.

"_You don't have to do this_." Sam pleads as they fire off accusation after accusation, blaming him for the plagues and rains of fire and destruction and deaths.

"These Demons told us that you raised their_ big daddy_ out of his cage." They say. Lucifer is not doing this. Sam wants to argue- it took three bullets. He falls to the bed, the searing pain of the gunshots washed away by the blood leaking out of his body. He can feel himself floating, reaching upwards, seeing light. Dean shouts at him from the background, voice nothing but fuzzy static.

More gunshots. Sam finds himself out of the street. The night before he left for Stanford. Freedom, he thought, relief and exhilaration coursing through his body. Free, for the first time. No longer tethered to the revenge driven mission his father and brother pushed him upon.

Dean finds himself by six gates, each leading on to an expanse of blue skies and golden clouds. This is Heaven, he thinks. This is Heaven and he is dead, dead before they could find Lucifer and Meg and stop the Apocalypse. He walks through the gate, the one by the center gate. This gate is golden, liquid fire reaching up to the skies in spirals of red flames. The fire cracks beneath his skin, beneath his eyes. Dean walks through, unharmed.

Angels around him sings in Enochian, _Michael_, they cry, _Michael_, the sword has returned and Dean knows.

He is Dean Winchester. He has spent thirty odd years as Dean Winchester. His father is John Winchester, and his younger brother is Sam Winchester. His mother was killed by the yellow eyed demon Azazel. He likes pie and classic rock. He likes to drink and he is a hunter. He is the righteous man.

His name is Michael. He is an Archangel. He was alive ever since his father first created him at the dawn of time, before direction was ever made in the void that became the universes. He has countless brothers, and one that burnt the brightest was Samael, who now called himself Lucifer. The Light Bringer, the Morning Star.

He burns cold and Michael burns hot and one day they will destroy each other, for it was prophesied, for it was the will of his father and Michael is the good son, the righteous one and Michael will carry out his will. Lucifer needs to die, Michael thinks.

But he does not have his memories, Dean tells himself. People can change. Lucifer _did change_. Lucifer is the one who rebelled, who sparked the first wall and incited their father's incredible rage that silenced Heaven's songs for eons.

Lucifer is the one who wear's Sam's clothes and likes fancy drinks and is a sad drunk who tells bad jokes.

The conflicting personalities screamed in Dean's mind, in Michael's mind, billions of years of knowledge and observation, of obedience, thirty years of truly living, of experiencing free will, of rebellion. Michael gasps in pain, clutching his head as the fire of his grace flares up inside his body, his body.

"Dean!" He hears a cry, and drops onto the ground, in the field outside the Motel room. Fourth of July, setting off fireworks with Sammy while dad worked a case. Disobeying a direct order.

"Why did you say yes, _why_?!" Castiel. His friend. His Angel- was shaking his shoulders, blue eyes wide and streaks of tears on his face. He grips Dean's shoulders. It did not hurt like it should, because Dean is Michael, and Michael is so much stronger than Castiel. Michael can make Castiel disappear into oblivion just like Raphael did that night Lucifer rose.

"_Cas_-" Dean holds onto the Angel, not knowing what to say. He pushes the turmoil of his conflicting thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on Castiel instead. "It's just me, it's just Dean."

Castiel shakes his head, and Dean sees the sheer hopelessness in the younger Angel's eyes when he realized what Dean knows.

"_Michael_." He chokes out, voice hollow and broken and Dean wants to press his lips to his, so he can drown out the anguish, and tell Castiel that he is more than just Michael.

"Not just Michael." Dean presses his forehead against Castiel's, hand cupping the back of his neck and threads his fingers through his dark hair. "Not just Michael." Dean repeats, holding Castiel's gaze.

"Cas, please-" Castiel shakes his head, looking down. "Please don't tell Sammy." Dean begs. "_Please_."

Cas looks up. "Why would you still care about Sam? You are Michael." Castiel spits out his name like it's a curse, and Dean's heart hurts at the venom.

"That doesn't mean I'm not Dean." Castiel closes his eyes.

"Why?" He asks. Michael shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Believe me, Cas."

Castiel nods, bringing Dean and Sam back to the Motel room. Heaven will not let them die, not yet- not when they still believe them to be Michael and Lucifer's vessels, respectively.

"Hey Cas?" Sam drags Castiel out of the room, tugging on his arm. "I keep hearing something about Michael being back- is that true?"

"I do not know." Castiel lies. Dean is Michael and it hurts like betrayal, like a _sword in his heart_.

"Hey Cas! Sam!" Dean strides out.

"God does not wish to be involved." Castiel tells Dean, gauging his reaction, his heart thundering in his chest. If Dean still remembers being Michael, then-

"Oh." Dean smiles, a small false smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, gotta talk to you, Cas." He grabs Castiel's arm and drags him off behind the impala.

"Please- don't tell Sam, Cas." Michael asks.

"You can_ kill me_ with a thought." Castiel replies, voice hard, betraying no emotion.

"I-"

"Good day,** Michael**." Castiel turns away, defiantly. If Michael wishes to destroy him he could just follow Castiel and do so.

"Cas! Come back here!" Dean yells, running after the Angel. Castiel disappears with a single beat of his wings. To the Mariana Trench, Michael senses. But he does not follow him.

"Cas!" He screams to the air, knowing that Castiel cannot hear him. Michael wants to scream out for him with his true voice. Sam catches up- Sam, his younger brother- the one Dean went to Hell, suffered for forty years for- Does being Michael _erase all that_?

"Come back here! We are a _team_, right?" Dean shouts, his voice hoarse and throat raw. His grace fixes the damage immediately and Dean hates himself for being Michael.

Hates the fact that he is the Archangel. Hates the way it creates a rift between him and Castiel, one that he is certain cannot be fixed.

"Cas! You _promised_! Team Free Will!_ You fucking promised_!"


	10. Just One Yesterday

Meg growls, striding across the room, the other Demons looking at each other, shuffling their feet. It is no hidden fact among them that Lucifer is not quite himself, given that he is mostly tied up and knocked out in a corner of the abandoned warehouse in Chicago they are occupying.

"There _has_ to be some other way." Meg kicks at some of the Demons, barking orders. They go off, making themselves scarce. She has exhausted almost every resource, getting her Demons to possess as much professionals as they could, scooping out information and knowledge from their minds. Still no clue on how Lucifer's powers are bound. She dared not to ask the more powerful ancient Demons of Hell.

Lilith is dead, but the others, Beelzebub, Behemoth, Abbadon and the Legendary Cain are still alive and they will tear her to shreds. No, she needs to rely on an outside source to break this spell.

The Pagan Gods. Meg, like all other Demons, disliked them. They are ancient, and more powerful than most of them, except for perhaps the ancient ones. She is reluctant to seek them out, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. When her Father gains his memories back, Meg thinks, he will _destroy_ them.

Which God, then? Which one is powerful enough to destroy such powerful bindings? Kali the Destroyer, with her winds and hurricanes and fires? No, she will attempt to burn them to cinders before even considering helping. Thor, then, or Odin. Norse Gods. They are strong. But hard to locate.

Loki, then. Meg realizes._ Loki_ is a perfect choice. Being the King of Tricksters and a demi-god, Loki should be more than willing to hear her offer. She orders another Demon to bring as much candy to the warehouse as possible. She is going to make Loki an offer he cannot resist- protection against Lucifer's eventual wrath and, of course, lots of sugar.

The ritual in itself was not hard. Meg is skilled with many different rituals dealing with various elements of the supernatural. Even Angels, considering that her father was a fallen Angel. She gets her Demons to gather all the things she needs- chalk, blood, ink. Various rare herbs and crushed bones. The ritual is not the easiest one to use for summoning Loki, but it is one of the oldest known ones and the most powerful.

Surly the Trickster King cannot ignore her after such a summoning. Meg sets up the Altar in the warehouse adjacent to the one they are currently occupying. The summoning took vast amounts of her energy, but Meg's mouth managed to curl up in a tired, satisfied half smile at the sight of the golden haired man standing in the center of the ring.

"_Hello_, Loki." Gabriel was surprised when he felt the tugging of a summoning spell. It's definitely not the work of some teenager thinking it would be fun to try and summon a pagan god. It's not even the work of the few witches powerful enough to summon him. The spell is ancient, and any human who knew how to cast it is dead and long buried. He finds himself facing a Demon. With Gabriel's powers, he could easily resist the summoning. Unfortunately, that would cast many suspicions on his actual powers and identity.

He sucks on the candy, eyeing the Demon. Her soul is as dark and twisted as any other Demon's soul. He can see Azazel's mark, the fallen's tainted grace littering it's marks onto what's left of her soul.

"Demon." He let's his mask fall into place, twisting into a familiar grin. "I thought that ritual is lost but," He gestured with the lollipop, "apparently not."

Meg smirks. "I know a _lot_ of things, Trickster King." She observes Loki. He seems like an unassuming man, slightly shorter than her with slicked back hair and bland, ordinary clothes. He could be just any man on the street, the only thing betraying his true nature the glint of malicious mischief in his eyes.

"You sure do." Gabriel keeps his voice light and airy. "Obviously-" He points to the setup. This Demon really overdid it, with the flowers and altars and candles and incense. She must really want something. "You went to, uh, great lengths for all this, so, what_ do_ you want?"

Meg smirks."Ain't that the million dollar question?"

"C'mon, make the offer" Gabriel pouts, "I don't have all day. I've got a job, you know- serving out_ Just Desserts_."

"I just need a little help. In the magic department, if you will."

"Well" Gabriel shrugs. He could just smite this Demon, but who knows how many more will follow? That is the problem with this whole identities thing.

"You have heard of-" Meg grins "Our _lord and savior_ Lucifer, right?" Gabriel stiffens at the mention of Lucifer, eyes going wide for the fraction of a second. Of course this has something to do with Lucifer. It is the Apocalypse, after all. And after all that lying low Lucifer still manages to find him, though not in the way he expected. He regains his composure.

"Sure! Why not, eh? _King of the damned_ it is!" He chirps. Gabriel is a natural born actor, really. He should be winning an Oscar for this.

Gabriel really didn't expect to see a relatively unassuming blond man tied to a chair. Meg, the Demon glances at him and quirks an eyebrow.

"As you can see, I have a _problem_."

Lucifer groans, stirring in his seat. He lifts his head up, shaking errant blond strands away from his eyes. Meg was there, as usual. There is also a man. A blond man. There is something familiar about him, something that makes Lucifer's stomach churn with unknown feelings. Gabriel gazes into his lost brother's eyes, seeing no recognition in his vessel's ice blue eyes. His disguise is that good.

"Can you break the bindings on him?" The Demon asks.

"What bindings?" Gabriel takes a closer, more cautious look at Lucifer. Apart from the crude bounds that holds him in place(not even Archangel binding seals), there are other seals. Deeper, more powerful, woven into Lucifer's being.

"He can't remember anything. Like a_ blank slate_. And he got kidnapped by the _Winchesters_, too." Meg sneers. "Who knows what kind of _bullshit_ they put in his mind?"

Lucifer lost his memories? He pokes at the golden seals, and an ancient, almost forgotten power washes over Gabriel. For a moment there, Gabriel refuses to believe what he felt. The sheer power the bindings hold almost throws him off his feet. It's overwhelming, feeling his father's power after thousands of years without it. It makes Gabriel want to reach out, to sink into the light and cry out for love and affection and adoration.

It's how they, how Angels are _made._ They have _no choice_ but to _love_ and _obey_ God. It's written into their very being, and no matter how hard Gabriel resisted he still missed the feeling. No wonder Heaven went insane after his departure. Steadying himself, Gabriel pulls away from the bindings.

"Well?" The Demon asks and Gabriel slips on his mask like a professional. He shakes his head, stilling himself.

"I can't. Seals are done by someone stronger than me." The Demon's face twists in rage. She leaps forwards, grabbing Gabriel by his shirt.

"Lies. My father will be restored."

"Fraid the restoring can _wait_, darling." He presses two fingers to her forehead, putting her to sleep before masking his grace with pagan magic.

"Hello, Lucifer." Gabriel spins around, facing his estranged older brother. Lucifer stares at the man- he heard something about summoning someone to help him regain his memories.

"Uh, hi?" He asks, moving uncomfortably against the ropes. The man- Loki? Snaps his fingers and the ropes came off, along with whatever sigils and bindings Meg put on him. Loki grabs Lucifer before he could run, and grins at his expression. Lucifer decides that he did not like this man. At all.

"C'mon, now, Luce- it's _playtime_!" They disappear, only to reappear half way across the country, in a cabin covered in seals. "Is it true?" Gabriel asks, eyes wide, shaking Lucifer's shoulders."You can't remember anything?"

"Yes?" Lucifer frowns. There is something odd about this man, that makes him feel familiar and strange at the same time. He exerted some sort of energy that he responded to.

"You don't remember_ me_?" Gabriel asks. He is supposed to be relieved- that Lucifer did not, could not want this Apocalypse. But he is also selfish and the thought of all those memories of them together, as fledglings, growing up being gone-

"Am I supposed to?" Lucifer asks. "Can you, uh, bring me back to the Winchesters? Do you know them?" Gabriel scowls.

"I do know the Winchesters." Great. Those yahoos has stolen _another_ one of his brothers. "But, no. You, Luci, are staying with me."

Lucifer contemplated escape. But, considering he knows nothing about using any of his supposed powers(and the fact that they are bound), he probably won't get far.

"Do you wanna know who I _really_ am?" Gabriel asks._ Bad_ idea, he scolded himself, exposing his true identity like this. But this is Lucifer- and Gabriel wants him to know.

"Who are you, then?" Lucifer asks, feeling as if he already know the answer. A word in the back of his mind and at the tip of his tongue, held back by whatever is holding back his memories and powers. Gabriel steps back, grinning.

"Call me _Gabriel_, brother."


	11. What to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?

Castiel curls up into himself, pushing his body closer to the large rock, the water and pressure pressing into his vessel. He lets out a wrecked sob, bringing his knees up and closer to his body. How should he face Dean after all this, knowing who he really is? Knowing that the man he pulled out of hell, the one with the shining, bright, beautiful soul that Castiel cannot help but stare at, is just Michael in disguise.

He had tried to convince that Castiel that he was not just Michael, but Castiel knew _better_. The ridges in the rocks dug into his back, and small red strands of blood left his body. This is _his_ body, now. Jimmy Novak is in Heaven, ever since Raphael ripped them both into pieces.

Dean is _Michael_, his mind chants at him, not letting Castiel forget, even for a second. Castiel breathes in a lung full of salt water, the pressure of being at the bottom of the ocean crushing his body. Dean is Michael, and everything Castiel has been working for, every unknown, exciting, terrifying feeling he felt for the unorthodox man is for _nothing_.

And that thought is what absolutely_ crushes_ Castiel, pushing him deeper into the pits of hopelessness. Is this what having emotions like? Is this what being human is like? All this _pain_, all this_ turmoil_. It would be better, easier for them all if Castiel cuts himself off from feeling human. Castiel steels his resolve.

From now on, he will crush all thoughts of free will. He will no longer think of Dean. He will be a_ good soldier_, and nothing more. For this is what Castiel is made to be, _nothing_ but God's soldier, and Castiel intends to never let these irrational emotions overtake him again.

Michael is eternal, and Dean Winchester is not. But somehow, Dean thought, as he drove down the gravel road, an empty ache in his heart and Metallica blasting from the car radio, he still feels more like Dean Winchester than Michael. He still likes pie and women and hunting. That did not change and that will never change. He still want to protect Sam, and God, he wants to kiss and hold Castiel and tell him that everything will be just like before. Why does he even want to do _that_ to Castiel. There is just something about that Angel that draws Dean to him.

On the surface, Dean seems unconflicted. Dig deeper, and the conflicts of personality begins to clash. Lucifer, for one. Lucifer is his younger brother, just like Sam is. He needs to protect him just like he needs to protect Sam. He disobeyed John's order, right? He did not kill Sam even when it was ordered. So why is it so damn hard to ignore the need to fulfill God's prophecy? To stand and _slaughter_ Lucifer? Michael almost allowed himself to hope. Now that Lucifer did not remember anything, they can go back, go back to what it was once like, the pure happiness, the sheer joy of being with his shining brother without any burdens of duty and betrayal. Lucifer is light and all the other Angels gravitated towards him.

When he fell, it was like Heaven lost it's light. Now he has a chance, Dean realizes, to save Lucifer. To restore their relationship. But Michael is the good son, he argues with himself. It's drilled, programmed into him, into every one of his brothers and sisters. By rebelling, Lucifer sealed his fate. _Screw fate_, Dean thinks, and the Michael part of him screamed at him.

How did Anael do it? Be able to combine her human and angelic personalities into one? His head hurts, and Dean wants to sleep. Well, he doesn't need sleep, not anymore. He thinks. He doesn't need to eat anymore, either. Bottom line, Dean is one of those dick Angels. Not sure how he feel about that. One of those dick Angels that hurt Cas.

Thinking about Cas sends another jolt of irrational anger and pain through him. Why did he leave? Before Dean can explain that he is still Dean, that nothing has changed just because he gained about, oh, billions of years of lost memories. He squeezes his fingers down on the wheel, careful to not hurt his baby. This means Dean is not all Michael, right? If he was like what he was before being born as Dean Winchester, Michael would not care about the car, about the impala. The car is his home, where he grew up. It feels more like home than Heaven.

They stop at a motel, Sam shooting Dean concerned look. Dean feels a stab of guilt for not telling him that he is Michael. But if Sam rejects him like Cas did, then Dean really have no idea what he will do.

"Hey, Dean." Sam walks over, clasping his hand on his shoulder. Dean looks over, startled that he could see his brother's soul. Sam's soul is bright, and good, but the Demon blood covers it like a sheen of oil and filth. Dean jerks back violently.

"Don't touch me." He hisses. _Abomination_. A treacherous voice in his head laughs. That is what the other Angels called Sam-

"Dean!" Sam steps back. "Are you all right?" He asks, concern in his face, in his soul and Dean regrets lashing out like this. Why does it have to be him? Things were easier, when he thought of Michael as the guy who is trying to use him like a meat suit, not_ himself_.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Dean grins. "Just a little jumpy." The Motel room is small and cramped, and Dean wants to stretch his wings. Does he still know how to fly? Of course he does- every Angel knew how to fly from the moment they were made. Except for Lucifer, because Michael was the one who taught his first brother how to fly, his own personal request he made to their father.

"Where is Cas? He told me that Michael is back, then he just left." Sam asks, turning his back to Dean and unpacking his laptop. "We should probably be looking for a case, since we can't do anything about- you know."

Sam rambles. Knowing that Michael is back, knowing that he is after them, and is probably after Lucifer- Sam just needs something mindless to do, to take his mind of all this.

"Yeah. A case." Dean nods mindlessly. A case would be good. He looks into Sam's soul again. He knows how to do all this. Look into souls, read minds. It's mind-blowing, knowing that he is freaking Michael the Archangel.

"And we should look for Lucifer, too. What if they did something to him?" Sam thinks that this is all so surreal, that he is concerned for the Archangel that would have wanted to wear him, if he had his memories. But Sam is concerned. And Lucifer is his friend, their _friend_ now. Part of their rag-tag little group to stop the Apocalypse.

He refuses to think about what Castiel said about thinking about Lucifer naked. Even that sentence is making his head hurt. (But the sun really did light up his hair-).

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean flops down on the bed, moving his wings. Holy shit, they are huge.

"Yeah?" Sam sets his laptop down on the table, connecting to the Motel's wifi.

"What do you think of-" Dean waves his hand in the air. "Michael?"

"The Archangel?" Sam asks, frowning. Why would Dean be asking about Michael?

"Yeah. Just- want _your_ opinion." Stupid, stupid Dean, he thought. This is _reckless_. He should not be this reckless. But he needs to know what Sam thinks, is it safe to tell him.

"Well-" Sam turns to Dean. Something is definitely up here. What if Dean said yes? Made a deal with Michael while they were dead? Knowing Dean, he is probably stupid enough to do something like that, if it insured Sam's safety, or something. His heart pounds in his chest, attempting to rationalize these thoughts. If it's Michael, he would have gloated at the horror on Sam's face. He will not hide it. If it is not Michael, then why did Castiel leave like that?

"I don't know." He shrugs, keeping his voice light and neutral.

When they slept Sam keeps his back turned away from Dean, until dreams of a world without monsters and angels took him away.


	12. Ain't nobody gonna love you like I do

Ellen and Jo kept their guns trained on the Demon. They have heard of him. Anna warned them about him, after all. Crowley. King of the Crossroads.

"Ladies, ladies- what is all this about?" Crowley grins at them, spreading his hands out.

"The _colt_." Anna steps into the light, letting a bit of her true voice slip through. The slight glint of fear she sees in the Demon's red eyes gives her a slight shiver of pride. Angels are powerful. They should be feared by creatures like Demons. "Give it to us."

Her eyes glows, an ethereal blue. Large shadows of her wings filled the walls of the mansion. The two humans and the Demon shields their eyes from the light.

"Why should I do that, darling?" Crowley asks, stepping back. Sure, he can't beat the Angel, but he still can cut a mean deal. King of the Crossroads, hello.

"I believe that you do not want Lucifer to rule hell and earth, yes?" Anna tilts her head. Power games like this are getting increasingly easier to play. She can certainly see the appeal, with practically everything in creation being weaker than she is. But she will not fall to it like her brothers and sisters. Being human once- that grounds her.

"What is going on here?" Castiel strides into the room. As soon as he left the Ocean, he felt Anael's grace surge. She was his friend, his sister, and he mourned her when she fell. He takes a detour here, not wishing to face Michael- to face Dean so soon.

"Castiel." Anna replies, closing in on the Demon.

"Oh, come on now, two against one?" Crowley keeps the colt trained at them.

"Four against one, actually." Ellen cocks her gun at him, daring him to shoot.

"What are you looking for, sister?" Castiel asks Anael. Anna does not answer. Castiel was traveling with Lucifer- no matter how much he seemed to change- how human the Angel has become- it's easier to trust herself and the two humans under her watch.

"I can handle this myself, Castiel."

Castiel nods at his sister. One Demon, even the King of the Crossroads, is no match for an Angel at full power. He flies away, not willing to deal with anything. Father, Castiel thought to the skies. He is so tired. He is so lost. He lost the family he just found- Sam and Dean and- father, it hurts so much to think about Dean.

"You want Lucifer gone." Crowley turns to the Angel and humans. "I want Lucifer dead. How about a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" Jo eyes the colt. She has heard of the weapon before. A legend, a bedtime story, and now she is standing on the cusp of changing the world.

"A good deal, darling- a good deal."

* * *

><p>"You are Gabriel? The Archangel?" Lucifer asks, trying to remember what little he knows about Gabriel. Brother, a word came to his mind.<p>

"You got me, Luci." Gabriel takes Lucifer, clouding them both with magic, and flies away to the tip of the Himalayas, on the edge of the world.

"Do you remember how to fly?" He asks. Lucifer shakes his head, eyes wide. He tries to reach for his invisible wings, balancing himself on the rocks, staring down at the sheer mountainside below.

"You know." Gabriel stares at his brother- it's like Lucifer is a fledgling again, not knowing how to fly, not knowing anything. His brother raised him, back when things were simple and Death is a concept no Angel knew- and now the roles are practically reversed. His father has a strange of humor.

"You taught me how to fly." Gabriel tells Lucifer.

"I did?" Lucifer asks, the absurdity of his predicament striking him again. Here he is, standing on top of the world with the Archangel Gabriel, after being kidnapped two times, once by hunters and an Angel, and then by a Demon. And once by Gabriel makes three times, he supposes. All in the space of about a little less than two weeks. Maybe he will wake up at a hospital soon, all of this a vivid daydream. Knowing his luck, probably not.

"Yep. Michael- you know Michael, right?" Lucifer nods. Sam warned him about Michael, once, taking him too the side, looking serious and a little scared, telling him to stay as far away from Angels and Michael as possible.

"There was this story." Gabriel looks up, the stars unusually bright against the night sky. "That Michael asked for you to not be able to fly when you were made."

"And?"

"And he taught you how to fly- and you asked father to make me- so that I can't fly. And _you_ taught me how to fly."

Oh. Lucifer turns to Gabriel. There is an air of sadness over him, and he wishes that he could remember what Gabriel talked about. The Angels, they sounded happy- how did it lead to this?

"Did I? Teach you how to fly?"

"Yep." Gabriel chirps, way too fake and way too happy than he should be, given the circumstances. He jerks Lucifer away from the mountains and into a motel room, like one of those that he stayed in with Sam and Dean.

"Get some sleep, brother. Tomorrow is take Lucifer to work day."

"We don't _need_ sleep." Lucifer tells him. But he does like it. The ability to close his eyes and be dead to the world, for a few hours, at least. "What kind of work?" Gabriel- Archangel of Justice- the Messenger- comes to his mind-

"Serving out Justice, Lucy." Gabriel winks. "Just desserts."

"What-"

"You'll see, Luce- you'll see."

Lucifer asks Gabriel why he left and Gabriel tells him it's because Lucifer left.

"No hard feelings, bro." He tells him. "It's what family does. Leave each other."

"Family-"

"Well, that's what _our_ family does." Lucifer pats Gabriel's hair. The Angel not at all the cheerful man he seemed to be. Gabriel clings on to him when they slept, and Lucifer wonders about what the hell happened to this family of his. He wishes that he could remember, just to know what it was like, him teaching Gabriel how to fly. He will take all the bad memories that came with the good, if he'd just remember. Gabriel is still his little brother, and Lucifer vows to protect him as much as he can.

Gabriel wakes him at the middle of the night, golden eyes shining, like he couldn't believe that Lucifer is here, and not out there destroying the world. Lucifer looks back- trying to remember- something inside him telling him that Gabriel is important. Gabriel is his to look after and Gabriel is important.

Lucifer has no idea what to say, so he just holds on to Gabriel, harder, closer, and hopes that it makes a difference.

**A/N: Comments are love!**


	13. Hey, Brother

"Look." Sam gestured to Dean. It's still uncomfortable. His brother acts too different to be entirely Dean, but not different enough to be possessed. Right now, their priority is to find Meg and Lucifer.

"Yeah?" Dean asks, ordering another piece of pie. Pie is still good. He can rely on pie.

"It says that lots of construction workers and just random people went missing in _Chicago_, in places near abandoned warehouses."

"And?" Sam sighs. "And,_ Dean_-" He pulls the pie away from his brother, ignoring the indignant 'hey!'- "There is also strange electrical storms and weather being off in the general district. And it all happened about a week ago. When Meg took Lucifer." He lowers his voice.

"Chicago?" That will be a long drive, Dean thinks. He could just fly there. The discrepancies in his personalty are becoming easier to manage. Well, that is if he does not think about Demon blood, Lucifer or Castiel. He tried calling Castiel, but no answers. Flying is nice. The pull of his wings, the fabric of air and space and time knits together and falls apart with the movement of his powerful appendages. When he flies, he is Michael,_ Archangel_, infinitely old and infinitely powerful.

"Yep." Sam says. Dean is spacing out again. He spaces out a lot, recently. Which adds to Sam's suspicions. He ignores the need to ask questions. For once, everything is going right between them. Sue him for wanting to hold on to this just for one more day.

"Let's go, then." Dean flexes his invisible wings again.

"I'm going to the bathroom, you coming?" Sam asks Dean.

"Nah, I'm good." Dean stretches, walking towards the impala. He should probably go, just to keep up with appearances- but he is feeling reckless, wanting to drop Sam a few _hints_. Ease him into things. Sam is no idiot, and he is noticing. Should he tell him, or let Sam figure things out by himself? That he is Michael, not just possessed?

Sam slinks into the bathroom, feeling his heart sink into his stomach. Dean doesn't seem to sleep. He woke up in the middle of the night, to find the other bed empty. He seems to need to go to the bathroom much less than usual- and probably only to keep up with appearances. Is this some sick game whatever is possessing Dean is playing. Is this Michael? Dean's anti-possession tattoo is still in place- it can't be anything but Michael. Sam wouldn't think of Michael as someone who likes to play head games, but it seems so.

_Why_ did Dean say yes? Is he still in there? What they _hell_ did Michael offer? What did Michael do to Cas? Michael is probably using him to find Lucifer, Sam realizes in horror. And now he knows where Lucifer might be. He shudders, leaning against the cold tile wall and dials Bobby's number.

"Yes?" Bobby was like a father to both of them and his voice, gruff and steady is as reassuring as anything could be at this point.

"Dean said _yes_ to Michael." Sam whispers, wondering if Michael could hear him. "We died, and I went to Heaven, and God is gone and Dean said yes to _Michael_."

"He did what?!" Bobby shouts from the other side, gripping tight on his wheel chair.

"He said yes. I don't know why- but Michael is pretending to be _Dean_-" Bobby falls silent.

"Can Castiel help?"

"Michael did something to him- Castiel- he's _gone_-"

Bobby swears. "Balls! Keep an eye on him, boy- I'll dig up as much lore as I can about Archangels as possible."

"Thanks, Bobby."

Sam steps out of the bathroom, finding Dean nodding his head along to some song or another- no, not Dean. He trains hard to keep his breathing normal, not letting anger get into his head. If Michael wants to play a game, then a game he gets. Did Michael think Sam was stupid? Sam thought as they drove on, Michael speaking with Dean's mouth, laughing with Dean's eyes, playing Dean's music, driving Dean's car.

"So, Chicago-" Dean says, and Sam jolts out of his seat. Dean is no idiot, despite what he tries to make people think and he knows what Sam is thinking. Well, _mind reading_ helped as well. It's pretty ironic, really. He remembers being Michael, and Lucifer forgets about being Lucifer. He wishes that he can forget again- but his grace, oh, he did miss being an Angel.

"What about Chicago?" Sam asks, voice smoothed over, with only a hint of hardness underneath. If Dean's senses are not heightened, then he wouldn't have even noticed. Damn. He realizes. My Sammy is a good at this. Like Lucifer. He refuses to let his mind go that way.

"Lucifer is in Chicago, right? Now we just gotta go and get him away from Meg and her horde of Demons." Dean reaches out with his grace again. Meg, and various other demonic presences remains in Chicago, which made him breath in relief, because if they moved then he really couldn't explain things to Sam without everything blowing up in his face. He can't sense Lucifer's presence, but Meg will not harm her maker. And if she did she brings Michael's wrath down on her head.

"Yeah, of course." Sam is sounding a little more strained now, restless. Dean opts to nod and turn up the music instead of poking at him some more. Sam leans against the window. Their must be some way to warn Lucifer of this- a way to get a message some how. He doesn't want Lucifer to be killed by Michael. Not like _this_. Never like this. Not when he is just starting to learn, just starting to _understand_.

Lucifer got a chance now, Sam thinks. A chance to change things. From what he has heard, Lucifer was not exactly the most well adjusted Angel. And Michael- Michael will take it all away again. Sam thought of the powerful being that is wearing his brother's skin snuffing out the light in his eyes. Sam grips the leather seat tight. What he feels for Lucifer- what he is feeling for Lucifer- it's not simple camarade

rie, or friendship- it's something more. His mind is going to places Sam would rather not go. But sitting here, with Michael at the wheel, Sam decides to go where he wants to for once. He likes Lucifer. Wants him. Want to be with him. He looks at him like he looked at Jess- And that thought_ scares_ him. Because whatever they could have been, whatever they could have had, would all be lost when Michael finds Lucifer.

Hell, he is still too scared to admit that they could have been anything, because everyone that Sam have any sort of feelings for ends up dead. Every one of them. He must be cursed, somehow. Does that extend to Archangels too?

Dean tries not to listen to Sam's thoughts. Hell, he doesn't care if Sam wants Lucifer(but Lucifer and Gabriel!) his mind whispers to him, memories of two younger brothers fooling around in the garden surfacing in his mind. He shakes those thoughts away.

But Sam- thinking of _himself_ like that- when Dean finds whoever did that to him they will have hell to pay.


	14. runs in the family

Castiel flies away from Annael. Whatever she wants from the Demon, she would surly get it. Flying with a vessel is different from flying freely. More constricted, yet more exhilarating. Castiel moves without direction.

Angels are not meant to be without purpose. A golden thrum of grace in the air, mingled with old magic catches his attention, and Castiel almost fall out of the skies._ Gabriel_. His mind supplied. Their golden messenger is on earth. He flies towards where he last felt Gabriel's grace. Faster than he has ever flown before.

"Gabriel?" Gabriel shoots up, eyes wide and arms wrapped around Lucifer as soon as he feels another Angel appear in the room. Castiel stares wide-eyed at Lucifer and Gabriel. He knows what Lucifer's grace feels like, bright and cold and he follows the thin thread to here, a place shrouded in Pagan magic. Perhaps a Pagan god took Lucifer away.

They would not want the Apocalypse. Instead, he saw Gabriel's grace, all bright and golden and shining like Heaven's gates, covered and disguised by centuries of magic woven in, clouding it until only Angels standing close enough will be able to recognize him. When Castiel was a fledgling Angel, he had the chance to talk to Gabriel. An _Archangel_. Perhaps it was nothing to the Archangel, but for a regular soldier like Castiel, it was like staring into the sun, and have the sun smile back. He never forgot.

When Gabriel disappeared, Castiel mourned, even more than his brethren.

"Ow- Castiel?" Gabriel scrambles up, Lucifer rubbing at his eyes.

"Gabriel? Lucifer?" Castiel looks around. If Gabriel is with Lucifer, then it surely means that he is on their side. On the side of their team. He _should_ warn Lucifer about Dean being Michael. He hesitates- Castiel did swear to himself to follow Dean's lead, to follow Michael and bring Lucifer to him if he asks of Castiel(But he did not _ask_, and so Castiel will not follow what is not asked of him)

"Cas?" Lucifer asks, Gabriel grabs his hand.

"He's back, isn't he?" Gabriel asks Castiel. One look at his baby brother's face tells him all he needs to know. Michael is back. Great. And if Michael is back that means he is after Lucifer's ass, which means he is after their collective asses. Even more great, because Gabriel quite like his backside the way it is, and not as a burnt out smudge on the ground.

"He is." Castiel thought of Dean. Why does it_ hurt_ whenever he thinks of Dean? Dean is just a blip in Michael's lifetime. Dean is _gone_. By all logic, Dean_ should_ be gone. But when Michael talked to Castiel, he sounded so much like _Dean_ that it hurt even more. He wants Dean back- the Dean he pulled out of Hell. The righteous man.

"Who is back?" Lucifer asks. No matter how much these people include him, there is still no way that he is a part of this. He is Lucifer. He is the Devil. He talked to God, even. But there is still a part of him that wants to leave this whole hunting, Angels and Demons and Apocalypse thing. He has a new start now- he can go, and he can _leave_ and he can live his life. But they keep pulling him in and he knows that with Gabriel here, he cannot leave(because it's Gabriel- he just _can't_ leave Gabriel.)

"Michael." Gabriel clings onto Lucifer again. He cannot lose his brother again- and Michael will kill them both if he is here. Castiel nods.

"Gabriel, I-"

Gabriel disappears before Castiel could say anything, dragging Lucifer with him.

"Michael-_ who_ is Michael-" Lucifer follows Gabriel, the air around him moving as if he was flying and he wants to fly, he wants to move his wings- he spent thousands of years in utter darkness and he wants to fly again-

"Our _brothe_r- C'mon, Luce, we gotta bolt. If Mikey's here he'll off us both." Gabriel tugs harder on Lucifer's hand. Michael- Michael was their big brother once- Michael_ never_ ratted them out to _anyone_- but now Michael is back and hunting them both and Lucifer can't remember anything and Gabriel has all his wounds ripped right open and there is nothing he can do about it but take Lucifer and run as far away as they could.

"Why does he want to kill you- kill me-" Lucifer follows Gabriel, the other angel moving almost too fast for him to follow, sparks of what felt like magic flying off him, clouding them both. God is real. Angels are real. Demons are real and he is Lucifer and another Archangel is off to kill him and he is running away with Gabriel. And there is nothing he could do but hold on to Gabriel and hope that the other Angel can have some answers, or at least take him back to Sam and Dean. They were friends, right?

"Because it's what daddy_ ordered_, and Mikey follows orders like his_ life_ depends on them." Gabriel sounds bitter and angry at the declaration.

"Can't we_ talk_ to him?" Lucifer asks once they settle down again, in what looks like a cavern. Gabriel slits his palm open and begins to draw symbols and names- 'Mikael, Raphael' on the walls.

"What?" Gabriel turns to look at Lucifer, "Are you crazy?"

"This is about the Apocalypse, right?" Gabriel flinches. "I was supposed to start the Apocalypse- but I can't remember anything- I can't remember why- Michael won't kill me if I don't do anything, right?"

Gabriel walks over, with what looks suspiciously like tears in his eyes as he beckons Lucifer. He grabs Lucifer, wrapping his arms around him so tight like he cannot let go. "Dammit, Lucifer- It's _Michael_- he will kill us- _trust me_, kay?_ Please_?"

Lucifer nods, holding on to Gabriel and not knowing what to do- every time someone, anyone mentions the name Michael it's like someone took a knife to his heart and sprinkled salt on the wound. He doesn't remember- he should be detached- but he is not, and- "What about my _friends_-" Friends- Sam and Dean- they were friends, right? And they are hunters- they can help him and Gabriel hide from this Michael guy.(_his brother, Michael is his brother oh God and he will kill him and Gabriel-_) "Sam. And Dean. They can help us, right?"

Gabriel lets go, leaving his hand tugging on Lucifer's shirt. He seems almost offended. "What- Samsquatch and Deano? They can't help us- they-" His eyes widens. Gabriel steps back, leaning against the damp walls of the cave. "Shit. Shit shit shit-"

"Gabriel? Hey- Gabe?" Lucifer tries to calm him down.

"Oh, no no no-"

"Hey, Gabriel- listen- whatever it is, you can tell _me_-" Lucifer babbles, holding on to Gabriel's shoulder. They never let go of each other ever since they meet.

"That idiot! He said yes!" Gabriel thinks in horror- at first, he did want the Winchesters to just say yes and get it over and done with. Hell, he was ready to step in and make them say yes. Then the Demon summoned him and he found Lucifer again, and now Michael must have a_ vessel_-

"Who said yes- _wha_t are you talking about-" Seeing Gabriel like this sets Lucifer off- Gabriel should be_ happy_- Gabriel should be- The pain in his head flared as he winces, the surfacing memories cut off.

"Dean Winchester- Damn- I thought that kid was more stubborn than Michael, but apparently _not_-" Gabriel cuts himself off, groaning at Lucifer's confused look. He should have never answered. Then Gabriel could be off, playing the Pagan God until the end of times(_but then he would have never found Lucifer again-_)

"What about Dean?" Lucifer asks. True, he did like Sam more than his brother, felt closer to him than he did with Dean, but Dean was also his friend and they did strike it off that night when Dean dragged him around that town for drinks.

"We- Angels- we need vessels."

" Vessels?"

"Yep." Gabriel wonders, at how Lucifer is still intact. Probably another aspect of the bindings.

"Am I in a vessel, then?" Lucifer considers his body- a vessel- not even his own body yet it _feels_ like his own.

"Brother, we are all in vessels. Like, all of us on earth. Problem is, Deano is _Michael's_ vessel. And Michael is here. Which means Deano said yes- cause we need _consent_, you see?"

"Oh."

Lucifer keeps his arms wrapped around Gabriel's shoulders. He can't let go. _They_ can't let go. Gabriel reaches back, and Lucifer knows it's because he cannot let go as well. He can't remember what happened between Lucifer and Gabriel, the old Lucifer and Gabriel, but he knows that even without his memories he will not let go of Gabriel. It's an instinct, that runs_ deeper_ than memories.

"Lucifer?" Gabriel leans into his brother's touch, like he has so many times before Lucifer fell.

"Yes?"

"You right now- it's like _before_ you fell." Gabriel closes his eyes. Lucifer, even without his memories, acted exactly like he did, before everything went down the drain. Heck, looks like their dad left Luce's personality intact. Well, his old personality. And call Gabriel_ selfish_, but he wants _this_- want them to remain exactly like this, till the end of time, till Death comes and reaps everything. Until then, he thinks, let them have _this_. Just this.


	15. Offer me that Deathless Death

"_Hello_, girls." Meg sneers.

"Demon." Anna nods. "Looks like you've got me _all trapped_." She turns to the Angel and humans. More hunters. Looks like someone in her rank ratted her out to _Crowley_. This situation has _his_ demonic fingerprints all over it. Drat.

"Where is Lucifer- you must be hiding him." Anna knows that Meg is an old Demon. Ancient and powerful- but if the Colt can kill _Azazel_ then it can kill her, and she knows that Meg knows as well.

"_Loki t_ook him." Meg glares at them. "What, you think I haven't done anything I could to break the spell on my father?"

"What spells?"

"Why the hell do you think Lucifer can't remember anything- do you think he will be running around with the freaking _Winchesters_ if he knows who he really is?"

"The Winchesters?" Ellen and Jo trade looks. What are the boys doing associating with_ Lucifer_? Meg rolls her eyes.

"Do you think I'll really tell you? Dear _Lucifer_ you are idiotic."

"She knows nothing." Anna turns to the Harvelles. "We need to go and track down Lucifer. I cannot feel his grace, but I may be able to track Loki's pagan magic." She grabs Ellen and Jo and transports them half a world away before they can protest.

Meg smirks at the sight. Really, Angels have such a _one-track_ , on the other hand, can actually think. Well, some Demons, at least.

As soon as they find Lucifer and Loki they will cause quite a commotion. And when that does happen Meg will, of course, be waiting. She does have her means to track Angels. And Hunters, of course.

"Ah, hello, boys- here to let me outta my cage?" Meg grins, eyeing the Winchesters and the trap below her feet.

"Ooh, hello, _Mikey_." Meg stares at Dean Winchester, attempting to not let her fear show. She never expected Deano to say yes, but who knows? Dean stiffens. Damn. Not like _this_.

"_Mikey_?" Sam asks, stepping away from Michael. Now that this is out in the open the Archangel will have no more need to hide.

"Oh, what are you waiting for?" Meg rolls her eyes. "Just fyi, torture won't work. Trust me, people tried."

"But not_ me_." Dean lets his eyes glow and shadows of his wings fill the room. No more need to_ hide_. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Sam inching away to the exit. He will need to explain to Sam later, but not before-

A sharp pang of pain strikes through him as Dean is ripped away from the warehouse and_ flung_ far, _far_ away. He could see stars and space pass by. The pain as he is involuntarily sent away rips through him. Damn. Dean thought. Never banishing another Angel like this again.

Sam used the banishing sigil on him, Dean thought with a laugh. Sam thought he was banishing Michael. But what really hurt was that Sam did not even give him the benefit of the doubt. No one would believe that he is both Dean and Michael. That he does _not_ want the Apocalypse. That he does _not_ want to kill Lucifer. Dean wants to pray, to his father.

For the first time in his life, Dean wants to pray. He will _give up_ his powers, his status, his_ wings_ if that means Sam will no longer look at him like he is about to explode any second. So that it means he no longer has to kill Lucifer. Dean flies back, letting his wings stretch against the solar winds and dying stars. The universe is beautiful, raw creation. He helped make some of the damn stars, even.

He catches a flash of Castiel's grace. Exceptionally bright for such a young Angel. Dean groans. His obvious attraction towards Castiel is a pretty damn big problem. And it does hurt, it hurt like hell that Castiel knows he is Michael and Dean but still believes that Dean wants to _burn_ the world down.

He lands in front of Cas, the surprise flashing across the younger Angel's face like another stab to his heart. The sword Cas pointed to him hurt even more.

"Dammit,_ Cas_." Dean walks forwards, placing a hand on Cas's shoulder. He flinches.

"Michael."

"It's_ Dean_, kay?" Dean tells Castiel, patting his back affectionately- like they used to. Being an Angel did bring something good to Dean. For one, it made him get over his panic about being attracted to Cas. If you have lived for billions of years and literally helped God shape the universe itself and watched the process of evolution over and over again then panicking over wanting another dude seems pretty fucking _pointless_.

Besides, Dean is an Angel, and Cas is an Angel, and technically they are wavelengths of celestial intent. Huh.

"...Dean." Castiel follows Michael. The Archangel looks at him like he used to.

"Please, Michael-" He holds up his hand, preventing Michael from saying anything. "Do not pity me."

"Cas. I'm not doing _anything_, man."

Cas. There is that name again, Castiel thought. He always thought of that name in tandem to _Dean._ And Michael is calling him that now. Perhaps the elder Archangel has taken some form of _pity_ on Castiel, wanting him to have an image, an illusion of Dean to cling to. Perhaps Michael, and the other Angels, are right. Perhaps free will is just an illusion. Why else will God give him Dean Winchester to save, only to make Castiel out as the _fool_?

"Cas? You okay?" Dean asks. Cas is acting all weird. Sam acts all weird because he thinks Dean is being possessed. And that hurt like hell. But even_ Cas_ is doing this.

"Hey Cas-"

"Do not call me that." Cas turns to Dean, blue eyes blazing. "You have _no right_ to call me that. Not anymore." "Right."

Dean licks his lips, not knowing what to say. What does Cas think? Dammit. He knows that Dean is still_ Dean_- right? Just with a little extra. He has some wings and a load of identity issues. No big deal. But Castiel's grace is blazing and angry and fucking beautiful and Dean _falls_ even harder, and-

"You are_ not_ Dean Winchester," Cas says so suddenly that Dean almost trips over his feet. "Dean Winchester is _dead_."

"That is not true." Dean grabs Cas, anger and frustration burning hot in his stomach and in his grace. "That is not fucking true and you know it." He looks into Castiel's eyes and grace and sees no fear, only acceptance, and Dean reels, sickened by what he saw. Cas thinks he'll _kill_ him. Rip out his grace. Cas _wants_ to _die_. Cas wants to die because he thinks that Dean no longer exists and Dean hurts for Cas, because he should not be feeling this way-

"If- If I'm not Dean-" Dean cups Cas's face, and forces him to look at him, just look,_ please_- "Then why the hell will I do this?" Dean leans in, closing the distance between their lips. Castiel remains still, stunned into silence, allowing a thread of _hope_ to weave into him.

Michael will not do this, would he? Then this means that Dean is Michael but that Dean is still Dean and Castiel allows himself to hope. He presses back. The kiss is more of a clash of tongue and teeth, the two men, the two Angels attempting to pour their frustration and anger and desperate need out at each other. Months of wanting and hiding and they take and take as much they could and Dean gives all that he can.

They don't need to breath. They break apart and Dean breathes, not because he needs to but because he wants to clutch to his humanity like it's something precious and Castiel _understands,_ resting his forehead against Dean's. Maybe he is Michael. Maybe he is Dean. Maybe he is both but he is Castiel's and in turn Castiel will be his. That he is sure of. But at this moment, Castiel wishes to not think. Only to breathe.

**A/N:What do you think? Feedback is appreciated :)**


	16. Hideaway

Sam takes the impala, running away from Meg's sick laughter as fast as possible. He steps down hard on the accelerator, frantically trying to calm himself down. Dean- Michael will not be able to find him with the sigils carved into his ribs, and thank Castiel for that, but he could find the impala. Sam will need to ditch the car soon. He may not be as obsessive over the car as Dean is- was- but- The impala was _home_.

It's where Sam and Dean grew up. From motel room to motel room, the sleek classic car was the only constant thing in their lives. And it's the _last _reminder Sam has left of Dean. It's where memories, good and bad, are made. And if Sam is going to escape Michael he will have to leave it behind. Bobby's is too obvious. He called the older hunter earlier, telling him that he banished Michael and to put up sigils, and Bobby snorts and tells him that he already did, sonny, now you go and take care of yourself.

Sam _knows_ that he has to leave the impala behind, but he refuses to. Dean will kick his ass when he comes back. And he will, Sam swears. Somehow, he will find a way to kick Michael out of Dean's body. Somehow, because they are brothers, because Dean would do the same for him. Because he has to, he needs to. And when Sam Winchester swears to do something he usually succeeds. Sam steps out, and begins to pray. He thought about this, on the way. He would need help.

"Dear Castiel." He whispers to himself, hoping that the Angel will hear him. "If you are still alive out there, please come and help me. It's Dean. I know you don't know me that well, but you will help Dean. I know you will. Please."

Sam opens his eyes. There is no tell-tale signs of wings flapping, or the sensation of Castiel's eyes, all too knowing, staring into his soul. Sam tries again. Lucifer is an Angel. If Castiel cannot answer, then _Lucifer_ can. The fallen Archangel's life is on the line as well, and it's better that they stick together. Meg did not tell him anything but he knows that Lucifer got out. Sam only hopes that Michael did not find him first.

"Lucifer." He says, "If you are still alive, _please _be all right. Michael is possessing Dean, so if you see Dean, _run._ It's _not_ him, okay?" He leans against the car, arguing with himself about whether to say what he wanted to to Lucifer.

"Just- take care." Sam wants Lucifer to stay alive, where ever he is. "Please, find me. If you can. I need your help."

He hears a noise behind him, like the sound of Castiel's wings, but strangely muffled, and turns and sees the trickster.

"Hey there, Sammy." Gabriel grins. "Your prayers gave Lucy_ quite_ the headache."

"How-" Sam narrows his eyes. The Trickster took Lucifer? Does that mean Pagan Gods have a stake in this Apocalypse now? He curses himself for not thinking about this angle earlier-

The Trickster grins at him and grabs Sam's arm, and the sensation of being transported tugs Sam around. Sam falls to his knees, hands on the cold stone ground, throwing up what little is in his stomach. When he stands, leaning against the wall does he notice that he is in a small cavern, dimly lit, a large boulder covering the entrance and Enochian sigils written in blood covered the walls.

"Sam?" Sam turns to the direction of the familiar voice.

"Lucifer?" Lucifer heard the voices. Sam's voice, to be specific. It pierced through the veil in his head, sending him convulsing to the ground and Gabriel into a panic.

"How-" Sam wraps his arms around the shorter man(Angel, whatever) and presses them together.

"Aww, you're having a_ moment_." The Trickster snarks from the other side of the cave. Lucifer ignores Gabriel's taunts. Gabriel huffs, worming his way in between Sam and Lucifer's happy little reunion.

"What are you doing with_ him_?" Sam points to the Trickster, who is now clinging to Lucifer's side like a damn octopus. He is not jealous. No, he is not. The Lucifer freaking snuggles into the Trickster and Sam glares at them both-

"He is my brother." Lucifer points at Gabriel.

"Brother?" Sam asks, incredulous. The Trickster is an Angel? Thinking of _brothers and Angels_ made something in him hurt and he pushes those thoughts away, focusing instead on Lucifer and the Trickster, still holding on to each other like they can't let go-

"It's _Gabriel_, Samsquatch-" The Trickster grins at him, all teeth and waggling eyebrows, and Sam is mind-blown. His world view over the past few months has been flipped over and over. First Angels turn up, then Heaven became their enemy and Lucifer became their ally, then Dean got possessed and everything went to Hell. And the Trickster is an Archangel.

"Gabriel? As in the _Archangel_ Gabriel?" Sam couldn't quite get the mental image of a smite-happy, golden-winged Angel he has constructed to line up with what he has seen of the Trickster. But then again, Lucifer is not exactly red and cloven-hooved, so Sam can't judge.

"The one and only." He sounded just as haughty as the Trickster. Angels really are not what Sam thought. Then again, vampires don't sparkle and werewolves don't walk around shirtless all day. At least he is shorter than him, Sam thought, and damn that thought is stupid, but he does need stupid thoughts to distract him from all the shit that is going on.

"I am actually the size of Mars!" The Trickster- Gabriel pouts at him, and Lucifer looks between them like he has no idea what to do. They all have no idea what to do.

"You are still shorter than me." Sam deadpans, shuddering slightly at the wind whistling through the walls of the cave.

It's a small cave, really. Lucifer and Sam took up most of the space here. They both have to bend there knees slightly to prevent their heads from hitting the ceiling and the stalactites hanging from the top of the cave smacks into their foreheads from time to time. They have no choice to huddle together. Gabriel plants his ass firmly down between Sam and Lucifer, the younger Archangel surprisingly warm, sharing his heat between his brother and the human.

Sam and Lucifer became a tangle of long limbs and Gabriel keeps shuffling around, attempting to find a relatively comfortable spot.

"Can't you mojo up something?" Sam asks. It's not like he is complaining. Gabriel is an Archangel. He seems to like candy and comfort. Why is he here holed up with them?

"Well," Gabriel snarks, giving Sam the stink eye, and Sam wants to remind him of the times he offed Dean over and over again- better to not think about- "Considering you yahoos got me into this situation, it means that I can't use my 'mojo' without risking Michael finding us-"

"Michael?" Lucifer frowns, reaching out to Sam, causing the three of them to topple onto the ground. "What about Dean- Is he-"

"Most likely _braindead_ right now." Gabriel glares at Sam like it was his fault and San grabs him, slamming the shorter man onto the cave wall, Lucifer grabbing him from behind, trying to pull him away from Gabriel.

"Don't you talk about Dean that way!" Sam yells, eyes red as_ rage_ sinks it's fingers into him and scrapes it's influence into his skull. "You have no damn right to talk about Dean that way!"

"Why not!" Gabriel flings Sam away, so that he is the one pinned to the wall. "He did say yes to _Michael_-"

"_Fuck you_!" Sam screams back.

"Sam! Gabriel!" Lucifer shouts, his voice echoing as the other Archangel and human turned to look at him, slightly awed by the sight. Lucifer may have lost his memories, and he may have his powers bound, but at the moment, he oozed power and control. His eyes glowed white, and shadows of his wings covered the small cavern.

"We can't fight. Not now." The cave _shatters_, rocks falling down to the ocean beneath as lightning cracks and Gabriel and Sam are flung to the farside of the cliff they stood on. The ground beneath their feet froze and the wind howls, as the cliff cracked further-

"Okay, okay!" Gabriel shouts, "We gotta run now!" He drags Lucifer and Sam by their arms, the three of them landing ungracefully on the floor of a motel room and began covering the walls with sigils immediately.

Lucifer breathes hard, the air around him crackling with lightning and smelling of ozone and ice. The temperature around him drops and droplets of ice forms in his hair and on his arms, a thin sheet of ice spreading out from beneath his feet and covering the carpet.

Sam flops down on one of the beds, covering his head with a pillow. He can talk with the Angels later. He is too damn tired and exhausted to do _anything_ but sleep.


	17. The Plotters and the Schemers

Zachariah is a smart man. Well, smart_ Angel_, actually. Which is why he skipped sides as soon as Michael disappeared. Well, he's gotta lean against the _strongest_, right? Rules of survival and all that. Pity all his younger brothers and sisters are too dumb and single-minded to even realize that Michael is out. Gone.

Raphael, now, there is one_ scary_ mother right there. All fury and lightning, like Michael but without any of Michael's _finesse_. Everything is fine, really. Zachariah can work with that. And his younger siblings, well, none of them can think for themselves, much, anyways. Ones like Anael and recently Castiel are anomalies. Rare occurrences. Well, then there is Naomi. Not exactly a particularly Angelic name. But kids these days- getting names like Hannah and Rachel and Naomi- what's next, Bob and John the Angel?!

But he can admit that Naomi is one scary smart kid. _Too smart_. Can think for herself, too. Not to mention power hungry. Almost like a female version of Zachariah. He does not trust her- he is too smart to trust her and he knows that she is too smart to trust him, and Raphael manages to trust them, the poor bastard.

But he is an insanely powerful guy, that one. Which makes Zachariah even more pleased and he and Naomi are able to jerk his strings so well. Never gonna happen with Michael, after all. Ah, but he heard from a little bird that Lucifer is out of his cage.

And Anael has a weapon on her, a weapon that can kill Angels, and, knowing his little sister, she is probably going to shoot them all. Strong spirited, that one. Even before her fall. Always took a liking to the humans, for some reason. Zachariah can't let that happen, after all. He needs to make Lucifer show up, even for a pretend Apocalypse. Here is the thing- him and Naomi? They don't want the Apocalypse- bringing all things to an end? That would only upset the establishment. And Zachariah is _all about_ the establishment.

But Raphael?_ Whew_, that guy is all about the Apocalypse, and father's _plan,_ and what not. Well guess what, daddy ain't home, and Michael skipped off to la la land, and Zachariah is the best damn Angel they have being in charge. So, see, Zachariah and Naomi have this plan. The plan being getting rid of the Archangels(making it seem like they fought each other to non-existence, of course) which means the Seraphs are naturally in charge after such tragedy- the Seraphs being Zachariah and Naomi, of course.

As for which one, well, he has plans, and he would be an idiot if he thinks Naomi don't have any plans for herself. As for now, well, Anael is a good runner. Real good, creative, too. Got those Enochian sigils carved onto the two hunters following her around. Really, does every fallen have two hunters following them around? There seems to be a pattern here. Oh well. That means he just has to look _harder_.

* * *

><p>Despite what Zachariah may think, Raphael is no <em>idiot<em>. Well, he may seem to be one, to that slimey _businessman_ of an Angel, but Raphael hides well. Perhaps too well. He will have to remedy that. Of course, Raphael can just snap his fingers and destroy the Seraph.

That would look bad, and Raphael absolutely refuses to make himself look bad. Randomly killing Angels will definitely make him look very bad. Zachariah may be one of the eldest Seraphim but Raphael is infinitely older. The younger Angel cannot possibly understand Raphael's reasons.

The Apocalypse is merely the means to an end. He is tired, after all the damned fighting and warring in his family, and the previous warrs waged between Heaven and Hell's forces he cannot wait anymore. God is gone, most likely dead and Raphael intends to end it all. They need a _new_ paradise, and he intends to make one- a new one, a better one.

After all, if their father does care, then he would have intervened long before Michael and Lucifer even began to fight. Or he would have struck Raphael dead on the spot for even having such blasphemous thoughts. But he did not and it just proves him right further.

He did feel it then, a crack of Lucifer's power from the Pacific Ocean, of the coast of an island, an explosion, really. It seems like his dear brother has _finally_ came out to play. He flies there, noting the storm and the hail and the ice and lets out strikes of lightning, hoping to draw his brother out. He _loves_ Lucifer, he really does. After all, he was Heaven's brightest, most beautiful.

They were quite similar, really. Raphael is thunder and lightning and Lucifer is storms and ice. Everyone loved Lucifer. Some, he thought of Gabriel, the _original_ missing Archangel, some loved Lucifer _more_ than the others. And when Lucifer fell and a third of Heaven ripped themselves away from the Host to follow him, not being able to stand living without his light.

Raphael was quite surprised that Gabriel did not show up just to follow Lucifer into the pits of Hell. Honestly, both him and Michael had been expecting Gabriel to.

By the time he has arrived Lucifer is gone, leaving behind only the after effects of an Archangel's power lingering in the air. The sublte crackle of electricity, the slight displacement of the particles in the air and all that. Granted, it did not quite feel completely like Lucifer's own powers. Traces of pagan magic lingers in the air as well, the trail disappearing in mid air.

Raphael will be sad when Michael eventually shows up to fight Lucifer. They are still related, after all. He wonders whether Gabriel, if the youngest Arch is still alive, would show up to the final show down. Probably, if he was alive. But as Gabriel has not been seen in thousands of years. Raphael would not count on it.

Lucifer and Gabriel's relationship- ah, those were_ the days_. Only the Archangels know the true nature of their relationship. Perhaps their father knew. Most likely he knew, but did nothing. Just like he did nothing with everything else. Relations between two Angels were not explicitly forbidden, but it was quite a taboo among the lower castes, and so Lucifer and Gabriel hid, sneaking off whenever they could. Michael's idea. Raphael knows that the two of them did not quite care about how the others saw them.

Raphael must say that he enjoys the luxuries of human life. His vessel does look quite good when he is sharp dressed. The high life and all that, as those mud monkies would say. Wining and dining. He will be a little sad, maybe, when they are wiped out. But they are only _humans_.

No fear, he thinks. They can always start over again, with a new paradise, a new everything. Raphael's vessel was a good man, if a man could be good. Ah well, it does not matter. His soul is in Heaven now. After all, Heaven, and all those places after life, is powered by souls.

Raphael sat in his new home on Earth. A bland, white, modern apartment. He knows how to live and masquerade as a human. He did watch the humans from when they are still crawling to the way they are now. He is not as clueless as some of his siblings about the inner workings of human life. There is a layer of_ detachment_ there, he is an Archangel, but he can pretend. Most of these humans, even they are pretending.

For beings with such short lives, they spend an awful long time pretending.

His little brother and sister can plan and plot and scheme all they want. Big brother Raphael is watching them, after all. And he ain't the forgiving type.


	18. Burning Desire

Dean jumps when he felt a familiar tug of power, just off an island in the pacific. Two familiar tugs of power, after all. Lucifer- his memories supplies, and Raphael. Two Archangels, their powers awfully similar. It was an explosion. One look at Castiel's ashen face and Dean takes off, the younger Angel following him.

Lucifer was gone, and Raphael was no where to be seen. The explosion was big, powerful, and Dean can still taste the _familiar_ lightning mixture of Raphael and Lucifer's fireworks show. The cliffside is completely _destroyed_. Pretty damn lucky the island was uninhabited, really.

Dean can feel traces of his brothers here, and magic and a little bit of Sam's soul- being an Archangel still blows his mind from time to time, the way he knows _everything_, the way he can feel everything around him, the molecules living and moving in tandem.

He can pinpoint the presence of any supernatural creature if he wishes to, but there are so many sources of life that they all pass him by, and it's so easy, so damn incredibly easy to just not care anymore about anything, because something so vast and _ancient_ as him should not be able to _care_- Then he looks at Cas, _really_ looks at him and sees his grace burn brighter than anything Dean has ever seen before, brighter than his own grace- full of devotion and- heck,_ love_ that is directed at him, at Dean, and Dean knows that it was there even before he regained his grace, only now Dean can see it and it almost overwhelms him- And he remembers why he fights, for free will and the continued existence of this world.

Because of people, like Cas and Sam and the souls they've saved together. Because all these people they've meet, like their dad and Bobby, because people try so hard to do their best in a world that is so _easy_ to do their worst. Because Cas_ believes_ in him, and Dean will not let him down. Because when you focus on the big picture too much, you tend to lose sight of the small things- the ones that are _really_ worth saving. So, in a strange way, Dean thinks, it's now Cas who is the one who grounds him. Funny how things turn out like that.

"Not here." Dean tells Cas, the younger Angel still shaken by the display of Archangel power.

"Sam was praying to me." Castiel tells Dean, trying to stay as far away from the lightning that is still cracking over head, even with the Archangels gone. He should tell Dean that Gabriel is still alive, that the youngest Arch, but there seems to be no right time and Dean needs to find Sam- And then Castiel tries to tell Dean about Gabriel and the words just cannot get out of his mouth, and he realizes that Gabriel must have placed a blockade, so that whenever Castiel wanted to speak his name he cannot-

There are still times when Castiel looks at Dean and sees Michael, see all the age behind the once too_ human_ green eyes and it makes him want to turn and run away and never look back, but Castiel soldiers on for the man he pulled out of Hell. Just like he always has.

"What?!" Dean turns to Cas so fast that if he was not an Angel he would have definitely got whiplash. The words 'Sam' and 'Praying' were the loudest- Dean grabs Cas- "Where, Cas-" The volcanoe on the island exploded, and Dean and Castiel turns to stare as lava was flung into the air, from the chain of volcanoes beneath their feet and the sky lights up red and orange and the ocean by the islands start to steam-

"Dean, you have to _stop_!" Castiel begs, because it's not Dean anymore, the ocean and volcanoes are reacting to Michael's presence and Michael's powers-

"I can't!" Dean looks down at the mountains spurting red hot lava that flowed into the water and lit up the ground, from pretty much all the islands around the destroyed cliffside-

"Just get me out of here-" Castiel nods, taking Dean's arm and pinpointing the last place he felt Sam calling out to him. Sam appears to be gone, no trace of him left, like he just vanished from the park.

"I can't feel him." Dean growls, poking around with his grace(Wow, isn't that a weird thought, his grace), he pokes again, frustrated at not finding anything, not even a trace of what took Sam, because the trail his baby brother's soul is gone(not his only baby brother now, wow) and Dean is pissed that he can't find Sam, like he just disappeared into thin air.

"I cannot feel him, either-" Castiel speaks up, and he tries to tell Dean that Gabriel could have taken Sam, perhaps, but the words are still blocked, the words are still blockd and Castiel can feel the frustration, this annoyingly human feeling creeping up his spine(his, now, and he feels his heart break for his vessel, his heart, now) "Someone took him."

Dean kicks at a rock, and Castiel opens his mouth again, and his throat is blocked again. Gabriel did a good job at that one, he thought, slightly bitter that he could not help Dean(Dean, not Michael, just Dean plus more, he certainly acts more like Dean than how Castiel thinks Michael is like. Or perhaps Michael has always been more like Dean than he thought). Castiel can feel the bitter taste crawl into his mouth and settle at the tip of his tongue and refuse to leave. He wants to help Dean, with all he can because Castiel is fiercely loyal when he is committed, and he is committed, first to Heaven and now to_ Dean_. And Castiel cannot help him, not when Dean needs it most.

Dean kicks at the rock again, thinking about Sam, Sam running away on him, Sam when he ran off the Stanford, and the parallels between his and Sam's life and his and Lucifer's life strikes him again, and he thinks of his father and the awful sense of humor he must have.

Except Michael would have never went to hell for Lucifer, and Dean thanks(what, his father?) for at least giving him this _humanity_, and he thinks that it could have been the left over guilt for leaving Lucifer in the Cage- if it was, well, Hell in Hell then it must have been way worse in the Cage and he left Lucifer there for thousands of years, which would be hundreds of thousands of years down in Hell. Lucifer was not innocent, and Dean(Michael? Dean?) knows it, but he did not deserve that. Lucifer did make the first Demon, but the rest made themselves and Dean was almost glad that Lucifer cannot remember anything. Not Heaven, not Hell.

"Dammit." He mutters, running his hand over the smooth surface of the impala's hood, the familiar gesture oddly calming.

"Dean." Cas asks, like he wants to say something but he can't, and Dean understands all too easily. He leans against the car, and pulls Cas towards him, and pushes all the freaking complicated and frankly unwanted thoughts away from his mind.

"Hey, Cas," He says, and Cas looks back and there is that feeling there again, and Dean knows that he can feel it, and he knows that Cas knows that he can feel it and he is pretty sure that Cas can feel it too. This tension in the air, when they touch or when they just look at each other, and it's really not the right time, but since when is timing their thing and Dean pulls Cas closer and closes the gap between them.

This kiss is deeper than the last one, and no less desperate, just the two of them leaning against a classic car in the middle of the night in a park, both of them too damn afraid to do something, anything about this thing between them that is definitely spiralling out of control.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There is a sex scene under cut. If you want to read it you can find it on my AO3 account, just search for this fic :)**


	19. I, Gabriel

"So," Sam says to Gabriel, the trickstering Archangel, as he hauls Lucifer's unconscious ass onto one of the beds. "Tell me again why you are not helping me with this?"

"Because," Gabriel drawls, leaning against the wall. He did nearly lose it in front of Samsquatch when Lucifer dropped on them, just collapsed right on the spot after covering half the room in ice, "I like watching you work." He winks. Well, there are some truths. Sammy is quite nice looking for a human guy. And his soul ain't bad, either. All bright and glowy, under the demon blood.

"Shut it." Sam growls, not bothering to turn and glare. Lucifer is pretty damn heavy, being just an inch shorter than Sam and in pretty good shape. Well, his vessel is, but that guy ain't there anymore, according to Gabriel. He finally heaves Lucifer on the bed, so that he lies face down and passed out, face pressed into the pillow. Sam flops onto the other bed.

"Hey!" Gabriel moves closer, "I need sleep too!"

"You're an Angel." Sam retorts. "You don't need sleep." And somewhere out there Michael is hunting them wearing Dean's face through the night-

"Doesn't mean I don't want to, big guy." Gabriel retaliates by planting his ass on Sam's stomach.

"Oof-"

"Humph."

"Get off me. Now."

"No."

"Now."

"Nope."

Sam groans loudly, flipping over and pushing Gabriel so that he fell on the floor with an 'oompf'

"You know," Gaabriel says from the floor, suddenly serious and Sam lets him hop on the bed again, even if it is a single and Sam is already too tall for it and Gabriel takes up more space than someone his size should.

"Hey!" Gabriel pouts, and Sam thinks he probably read his thoughts, "It's not about the size, it's about the skill!" Sam snorts at that, bursting into easy laughter shortly after, and the blond Archangel laughes too, snuggling(heh, snuggling) up into Sam's larger frame.

"How did you and Luci meet, anyways?" Gabriel slings an arm across Sam's stomach, casual like they've known each other for years and Sam thinks that it's nice, comforting in some weird way that at least this guy and Lucifer don't just look at him and think 'freak.' Even if they meet each other under less than desireable circumstances.

"Well," Sam thinks back, cheeks burning slightly, "Me and Dean(ouch, Dean)...kinda, crashed into him."

"Crashed."

"Yeah." Sam grins nervously, slinging an arm around Gabriel. Somehow, the Archangel seems less hostile than he was when he was the Trickster, his gaze softer and his demenor easier to approach. He made Sam feel comfortable, like all his defenses and the walls in his head came tumbling down.

"Are you doing something to my head?" Sam asks, cause someone he could say he just met should not be able to make him feel this relaxed and strangely defenseless. Gabriel freezes and Sam regrets those words immediately.

"I mean-"

"I'm not doing anything, if that's what you're asking. I mess with people, not their heads."

Right, Sam wants to say. Like killing Dean for all those tuesdays didn't mess with his head. "Find something to say, this is getting awkward." Gabriel mutters.

"Right. Did Milton get anything right?" Sam asks, steering the conversation away from Angelic mojo and Dean and Michael. "I mean, about the fall and such." It's not like he could ask Lucifer, considering that he is still out cold and amnesic. And Sam had read his fair share of Milton back in his college days.

"Luce did say better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven." Sam turns to look at Lucifer, his short blond hair falling over the pillow, sticking up in all directions. He would not have been able to imagine him being the Angel that got a third of Heaven to rebel, until last night. Lucifer destroyed the cliff side, freezing over the entire island, eyes burning blue, and Sam can imagine someone like that attracting flocks of Angels willing to fall for him. Different from how Sam first found him, all soft edges and light framing his hair. He looked beautiful then, every bit the Morning Star. Sam is starting to think that Lucifer will look beautiful no matter what. And suddenly it's not so hard to imagine those words coming out of his mouth anymore.

"Oh." Sam shifts again, taking his eyes off Lucifer. His leg grew numb under Gabriel's body, which had somehow found it's way into his lap. "Uh." Sam. "Can you get off me?" He is a man, a human man, and there are certainreactions. Especially when another warm body is so close and it's been so long since he last-

"Me an' Luce used to do this." Gabriel yawns, leaning against Sam and Sam sweats, attempting to will his arousal away. It didn't help that Gabriel is fairly attractive and, at that moment, Sam may be a little in lust with the Archangel.

"Yeah?"

"I had to leave Heaven, you know. Before Luce fell." Gabriel was suddenly awake, and Sam pays attention to his words, eyes widening.

"Can you listen to a story, Sammy? I just wanna tell a story."

"Yeah. I can." Sam nods. His curiosity screams out, wanting to drink every word in and hang on to every detail Gabriel gives. Sam always wanted to know more, to learn more.

"If I didn't leave," Gabriel says, thinking back to the old days, "I woulda fell with Luce. Rip myself straight from Heaven, too. No regrets. You know why?"

"Why?" Sam asks, feeling as if he knew the answer already.

"Cause I love him, Samsquatch." Gabriel sighs, turning to look at Lucifer. "More than any other Angel did. And I had him, too." They ran off together, in between the shaping of stars and let their graces mingle, pure energy against pure energy in the dark of the universe. And Gabriel ran off, on his own, because he couldn't stand seeing Lucifer and Michael fight, because he knew Michael was going to win and Lucifer was going into a cage and he couldn't stand his heart breaking.

"Oh." Sam pauses. He could understand what Gabriel said, leaving or else he would have fell, but there is an undertone there, like something more was left unsaid. "Oh." And he understands.

"Yeah, oh." Gabriel laughs. "See, when Gabe and Luce love each other very much, things tend to get, ah, steamy." Bury it under humor. Just what Gabriel does best.

Sam's mind conjures up images of Gabriel and Lucifer, all tangled limbs and heated breathes and finds his blood rushing down south and his face burning.

"Uh." He lets out a strangled little sound, lightly pushing Gabriel off him so that the Archangels did not...feel anything. Gabriel laughs, and Sam turns even redder, remembering that, oh, yeah, Angels can read minds.

"I'm not reading your mind, Samsquatch," Gabriel moves off him, and Sam almost want to protest at the lack of contact. "You're just projecting." He waggles his eyebrows.

"I loved him a lot, you know." Gabriel walks off, elbows on the windowsill as he looks out of the window. "So much that I had to run away cause I couldn't bare to watch him fall." He shrugs. Lucifer taught him how to fly, and for the longest time it was just the two of them, with Michael spending more and more time with their father. And he wasn't even there to watch his brother fall.

"That makes me pretty cowardly, doesn't it, big guy?"

"You're not-" Sam sits up, looking over at Gabriel, who seems so small at the moment, and his chest tightens for the Archangel. "A coward."

"Yeah, whatever." Gabriel adds more wards to the windows and walls. Just in case. This is probably the safest motel room in the world, now.

"He doesn't remember?" Sam asks, turning over at Lucifer. Stupid question, of course Lucifer didn't remember. He couldn't.

"Yep. And he's better off for it."

"You're not going to tell him?"

"Nah." Gabriel flicks the light off, and Sam went to sleep after lying in bed for hours, thoughts filled with Angels and Heaven and falling.


	20. You got a friend in me

"Gee, thanks." Meg comments drily at the Angel and two hunters. "Why are you kidnapping me, again?"

"Look." Ellen starts. "We," Anna and Jo looks to speak, but one glare from the seasoned hunter shut them up. Good. "Want to know about where Lucifer is."

"Loki. I told you. If you can't find em just means you're the useless ones." Meg looks up at the devil's trap painted on the ceiling. "Did you really have to do all this?" She gestured. "I'm honored. Honestly."

Jo splashed holy water on the Demon and Meg spins her head around, eyes bleeding black. Demons always creeped her out, the way they seem to know every dirty dark secret you have. And things have been pretty damned strange lately. Lucifer is real, and she is hunting the Devil with her mom and an Angel. According to said Angel Sam and Dean needs to stay the fuck out of all this because they will fuck it up. Her words, not the Angel's. Not like Anna has been telling them much, only carving Angel mojo on their ribs and telling them to stay hidden. But Jo figures that since they are going after Satan himself, details can wait. They've been on hunts with less information given, after all. The search for Lucifer so far has been pretty damn useless, and the Angel and humans are becoming more paranoid and easy to rile up.

In some cases, that was a good thing. Anna grabbed them and took off at the sound of wind by the windows. "Naomi," She hisses, the hunters and Angel dropping into a large field, sending bleeting sheep scuttling away. Meg looks out of the window flatly, the shattering glass breaking the devil's trap.

The Angels desended on them, clad in suits and swords out, a stiff looking woman at their helm. She could have been the C.E.O of any big company, with cold eyes and a cold smirk gracing thin lips.

"Anael."

"It's Anna, now." Anna pulls out her sword. She could see her brothers and sisters around them, some she knows and some she did not. They were all acting as Heaven's obidient little soldiers, following orders, soldiering on without ever opening their eyes and just look. Just look at the world.

"Humanity has poisoned you, sister." Naomi is as cold and impersonal as ever, Heaven's chief interrogator, though Anna prefers the term torturer. And she knows the insides of Heaven's prison walls all too well. Heaven is a prison in itself, really. Ever since Lucifer fell it became twisted and turned until the Angels became cold, emotionless beings like Naomi. Or perhaps Naomi has always been like this.

"Humanity has done nothing but teach me, Naomi." Anna answers, holding her head up, high and proud. And then the Angels explode into battle, and Ellen and Jo are immediately separated from Anna and each other. Anna was good, but there are more than she can handle.

They can only run for so long and Naomi caught up, because when Naomi wants something then she gets it. Her sword is out, and the colt clutched tightly to her chest. She cannot let them get it- it's her last hope, of ending the Apocalypse before it can start. Her siblings swoop in.

She takes her sword, pulling Jo away from the one Angel that lunged at her, and flew as far away from the humans as she could. They were light, all of them and they charged. Anna held her ground. She was a Garrison leader, in another life and this is what she does, battle is in her blood. She plunges a sword through a brother's chest, then another. She did not like killing other Angels, but she did not need to like it. Only thing that matters is that she did it. She sends the hunters far, far away.

The battle was hard, like all battles are, the blood from the vessels spilling and the smell of grace in the air. Even Naomi joins the battle, all strategy and grace. But Anna has something better. She has instinct. She plays her siblings, false moves and lets them fall on each other's swords. She could tell that they were tracker Angels, bureaucrats, perhaps. They can fight, but they cannot fight like she does.

Dimly, Anna wonders why Naomi did not bring warriors. But the Garrisons, she realizes as another brother yelled his death cry, must be raising Apocalyptic signs, the witnesses and war and pestilence. Heaven is like Hell in that aspect, and Naomi manages to get a hit onto her stomach.

Anna growls, turning and fighting with all her might, but the sword twists in her grace and she did all she could to keep it together as Naomi took the colt from it's hiding place, leaving her vessel bloodied.

She screams, tearing away from her siblings as they took off to Heaven, thinking that she will be dead.

"Run!" Ellen and Jo are thrown away, the air displaced around them, crashing down into another field, a thousand miles away.

"Mom?" Jo asks, pushing herself up from the ground.

"Joanna-" They pick themselves up.

"Where are we?"

"Don't know. Looks like the Angel sent us away." Ellen wipes the blood away from her face. "C'mon, we need to hitch a ride. Preferably to Bobby's."

"Why'd she send us away?" Jo asks. There is a cut on her belly, long and thin and gushing blood. It looks worse than it really is, and she remembers the Angel pulling her away just as the blade sliced through. And she gets it. Cause no matter what, Jo and her mom are humans and they will always get in the way of Angel business. Still kinda hurt.

"Why do you think?" Ellen snaps back and Jo grins. Just like old times, then. Saving people, hunting things. The family business.

"Yeah, mom. I get it. Lets haul ass to Bobby's, then." And hopefully come back for their Angel.

"Language, young lady."

Anna drops down in front of them like a sack of bricks, and the two women swore and jumps back.

"Shit, Anna, you okay?!" Jo peers down, and the Angel grunts in pain, fingers clasped over the wound in her midsection leaking light.

"That's it, we gotta go to Bobby's." Ellen orders, and they wish that the Roadhouse was still there, but Bobby's salvage yard is as good a home for them as any and Jo hauls Anna up, slinging the Angel's arm over her shoulder after Ellen patches them both up, wrapping pieces of cut off cloth over their wounds. They stumble out of the field into a street, the fields giving way to the road and electrical lights blinks by the horizon.

"Never before have I been so relieved about light pollution," Jo grumbles.

"Shut it and walk." Ellen orders as they marched on. Hell, the three of them, they're a team. And a damn good hunting team at that. The Angel sure as hell helped a damn lot. "When this Apocalyptic bullcrap is over-" Ellen starts. "Think we can still stay a team?"

"If you will still have me." Anna looks up, shifting away some of the weight from Jo's shoulder. "I will gladly join you both."

"Course we'll have you." Jo grins. "We make a mean team."

"You're goddamn right." Ellen nods. And they all laugh.

* * *

><p>"Ay, Cas!" Dean pushes the sleeping Angel up. Seems like last nights activities did tire them both out.<p>

"Dean?" Castiel wakes up. Another human thing he picked up from Dean- sleeping. Dean is Michael, an Archangel and yet he is so much more human than Castiel and there are times when Castiel cannot fathom how he, such a lowly Angel soldier from the Garrisons could have this with someone like Dean(like Michael, but Castiel knows that it is Dean that he would follow to the end of the world.)

Dean stumbles into the shower with Cas, fully intent on showing him the pleasures of a nice, hot shower in the morning, and maybe something more, if he gets lucky. Knowing angelic stamina, he probably will get water is nice and warm and it's the best damn shower he had since forever. The fact that he did indeed get lucky helps, of course.

"We should go to Bobby's." Dean said over the stack of pancakes, mouth still full. Hey, he may be an Archangel but old habits die hard. "Explain our situation, and all. I mean, if we can't find- mmf- Sam this way, then maybe he can, y'know, helpf."

"Dean, you should finish before you speak." Cas stares at him, looking halfway between fascinated and horrified. Dean shrugs, stuffing his face again. Food, o glorious food.

"Where exactly are we, anyways?" Dean looks around the ihop. He vaguely remembers dragging Castiel away last night but distance can get a little hazy when you got the world at your fingertips. Great, now he sounds like one of those smartphone commercials. Dean shudders at the thought.

"Detroit." Castiel answered. "I looked at the signs."

"Whew." Dean whistles, polishing off the rest of the pancakes. "12 hour drive. Hey Cas, you up for a road trip?"

"We can just fly there." Castiel frowns.

"Nah. One last road trip before shit goes down, eh?" Dean grins, straining his face. Just twelve hours. Him and Cas and the car, and then they set off to find Bobby and Sam and Lucifer and stop the Apocalypse.

Cas nods. "You wish for the familiarity that traveling on road would bring." Castiel nods. "I can understand that."

"Right. Then." Dean coughs awkwardly. Cas never seems to be able to stop saying stuff like that. They move into the impala, and Dean shoves Cas in the shotgun seat so it won't look so damn empty. Turns out Cas fits pretty well there, after all. Dean begins to drive as the rain falls. Detroit moves behind them as the rain cleared.

Normally, Dean hated driving in silence. He would talk to Sam, or have music playing, or do anything to distract himself from the quiet. The only times he drove in quiet was the worst times in his life. Like when Sam left for Stanford and Dean drove him to the bus stop. The night after Sam died and Dean dragged his body into the car. But with Cas's silent companionship made driving in the silence bearable. Almost comfortable, even. He decides not to break the moment.

Castiel stares out of the glass, as the cityscape and falling rain gave way to tentative clouds and light grey-blue skies. Seeing things from a human perspective amazes him, even after all this time. The people hurrying in the streets. He sees a woman hand an umbrella to a homeless man and he smiles. Humans. They are capable of such gestures of kindness.

They leave the boarders of the city. Instead of a highway Dean has opted to take a smaller road. Castiel is once again struck by his bond with Dean. They way their graces burned together. It was that moment that Castiel understood that even though Dean is Michael, Dean is not like Michael. There is something more that just light and Heavenly fury. There is want and sin, all too human and lust and love and the need to guard and protect. And they are bonded, in more than one way, from the moment Castiel touched Dean's still human soul in Hell. Castiel lets his lips fall into a smile as joy wells up in his grace. They may not belong in Heaven anymore, but they belong with each other, and with Sam, and the other humans and maybe even Lucifer, in this small family unit of theirs. And that is enough, Castiel thinks. That is enough.

The rain clouds part way for sunshine when Dean stops at a gas station. "Hey Cas!" He calls, albit courageously. "You wanna fill 'er up?" One look at Cas's signature head tilt told Dean that the other Angel has exactly zero ideas about what he meant.

"Like" Dean made a gesture, that made the Michael side of him groan at it's ridiculousness. Shut up, he told himself. We are the same person. "Like." Dean waves again, pointing at the pumps, waving frantically again. "This." He waves again, desperately holding in his laughter. And failing.

"Oh God- oh- I haven't laughed this hard since- since-" He hasn't laughed this hard since he was soaring through the skies, teaching his newly made siblings how to fly. Was Castiel one of them? He cannot recall. "Shit, Cas-" Dean pushes his memories of Heaven away. "C'mere."

Castiel would have protested at Dean laughing at him, but he could hear no malice in Dean's laughter, only amusement aimed at both Castiel and Dean himself, so Castiel grins back.

Dean made him drink coffee from the gas station, saying that no road trip experience is complete without gas station coffee, and is suitably horrified at the amount of sugar Castiel consumed. It seems that all Angels have a penchant for sweet things rather than savory.

Dean figures that driving in the night without a case in sight is way better than he thought. He did talk with Cas, bits and pieces and when the silence falls it was natural and comfortable and shit- something this good can't last very long, not for someone with his luck, cause Cas really is too good for him, damn it.

He ignores these thoughts and focuses on staring at the stars with his snazzy new Angel vision instead. Heck, he's made some of them himself, along with the other Archangels. And here he is, left on his own. And when they sit out together by the car at the side of the road, just to make this experience last longer, Dean pulls Cas closer when the younger Angel leaned against his shoulder. Not so alone, after all.


	21. Come back home

"Goddammit Bobby you old fool! Open up!" Ellen raps at the door. It's a damn near miracle the three of them got this far. It took them three hours, several payphones, and the stunned patrons of a roadside diner and stealing a truck off the side of the road for them to get from that field to Sioux Falls. Where Anna promptly fell over by the entrance, stating that there are Angel warding in the door way.

"Ellen? Jo?" Bobby opens the door with a shotgun. "What are you two- get in here- what the hell-" He exclaims at the state of their injuries.

"Wipe the Angel wardings first, Bob- got an Angel with us." Ellen points to Anna with her thumb.

Bobby nods. If Ellen says the Angel can be trusted, then he will do it. But hell, he is pretty goddamn worries for Sam, and the boy(His boys, they are both his boys), and he hasn't heard anything from him for days, with the Apocalypse going on-

"Get in here," He wheels himself in, wiping bits and pieces of the seals away as Ellen and Jo carries the Angel in. Ellen carries Anna onto the couch, and Jo went to fix the Enochian sigils with Bobby's gruff instructions.

"Why the-" Ellen waves to the sigils, downing a drink and wincing as Jo replaces the blood soaked bandages on her arm. "Precautions? I thought the boys have an angel friend, or something like that. Two Angel friends, if what you said bout Lucifer is true."

At least that means they no longer have to search for Lucifer, Anna mumbles from the couch and Jo pats her back and hands her a fifth of whiskey. Kids. They grow up fast.

Bobby grumbles and downs his drink. Ellen and Jo showing up like this. A chain of islands in the Pacific getting frozen after a freak storm only to have all the volcanoes explode. All over the news. And all at the same fuckin' time. Various Apocalyptic symptoms cropping up all over the place. People in Michigan turning up with Swine Flu all over the place. That stuff ain't natural, and Bobby is willing to bet on the Apocalypse being behind all this.

"Michael's here."

"The Archangel?"

Bobby nods grimly. "He wants the Apocalypse bad. Real bad. And he's wearing Dean."

"Dean is possessed?" Ellen slams her glass down. No good. No good at all. Jo and the Angel are now passed out on the couch. She would have to ask Anna about Michael tomorrow it seems.

"That idjit." Bobby answers and it's the only answer they need.

"Shit."

* * *

><p>Dean hits a roadblock somewhere in between Detroit and Sioux Falls. More of a case than a roadblock, really.<p>

"Two lovers," He points to the papers. "Ate each other to death. On Valentines day, no less." He grimaced at the description. "Sounds suspicious to you?"

Castiel nods, frowning. "Should we not prepare for the Apocalypse?" He asks. They have noticed the signs. It's not quite obvious as rains of fires and locusts, but obvious enough for them to know that it is not natural.

"Well, it's coming along, nothing we can do about it." Dean shrugs. "Might as well save some people and hunt some things along the way, yeah?"

"Yeah." Cas nods, like everything Dean says makes some great cosmic sense to him. "I get it." God, the quotation marks around them can be heard, and Dean snickers.

"C'mon, Cas. Let's go!" Dean pumps his fists into the air. He should be searching for Sam and Lucifer. He knows he should be but people are dying, dammit, and Dean still cares too much to ignore this in hope of another hunter picking this up. Besides, there is just something about the circumstances surrounding this case that picks at him, like there is something that he should know but he does not. "My Michael senses are tingling. Tells me that this case might have something to do with our case." Our case being the Apocalypse, and what a clusterfuck that one is.

"Michael senses?" "Spider man. You know, like a spidey sense?"

"I do not understand why a man-arachnid hybrid has anything to do with you."

"Never mind, Cas, never mind." Dean parks the impala and they check into the motel, now decorated with flowers and hearts and horrid shades of pink in liu of Valentines day. Eugh. Even the Michael part of his shuddered at the sheer amount of pink. And yeah, sure, it might be unhealthy to separate himself into 'Dean' and 'Michael,' but no one is pointing fingers and calling him crazy just yet, so Dean counts this as a job well done.

"We gotta start on your pop culture education when this is over, Cas."

Turns out that when it said they ate each other to death, it really meant that they ate each other to death.

"Ew." Dean states, poking at the body parts. "Barely anything left, man."

"I've searched," Castiel pokes at the intestines with his finger. "There seems to be no hex bags, or any curse of any kind."

"We can rule witches outta this, then." Dean watches with morbid fascination as Cas sniffs the corpse. He could probably do it, if he is still full Angel and all that but the basic human response against grossness is still in him. That's probably a good thing, Dean reckons. Michael needs Dean. Michael needs to be Dean, and be with Castiel. Being Dean keeps things in perspective. And with the ingrained need to follow the plan and the orders playing at him, he needs perspective more than anything.

"Be my Valentine?" Dean pushes the heart towards Cas when he noticed the carved symbols. "Hey, wait-" He pulls Cas over before the other Angel could answer. "Check these out."

Dean recognizes the symbols on the hearts. Of course he does. But that would mean- nah, no way.

"This is the work of a rogue cupid."

"Rogue cupid." Dean answers flatly. It shouldn't be funny. He knows what cherubs do. But it sounds so damn funny. Rogue cupid.

"Yes, a rogue cupid." Castiel answers. Why is Dean laughing? This is a serious situation.

"Right. Let's go check out the rogue cupid, then." Dean pats Cas on the back, pants suddenly too tight at the intense look in Cas's eyes. Goddamn, they are so blue, and the white of the walls just makes them stand out more. Dean coughs, stepping away.

Where the Hell did that come from? No way he is getting frisky in a mortuary. But the way heat is radiating off Cas- Dean narrows his eyes. Something is not right here, like all his inhibitions regarding Cas is particular is switching off. He has a feeling that what is at work here is more than just a rogue cupid.

That thought is proven by meeting the man himself. The cherub sobbed at Cas's accusations, hugged them, cried some more, hugged them again and flew off.

"Well that was productive." Dean grumbles, steering himself away from Cas. Definitely not the cherub, then. Something else is at work here. "C'mon, Cas. We got work to do." Cas nods, face all serious and eyes so bright that it hurts. Work, Dean, work. He reminds himself.

* * *

><p>Gabriel may seem calm, and as happy as a clam, no matter how unhappy those things seemed, but he is most assuredly not happy. Or calm. At all. Now that Samsquatch has passed out Gabriel begins his long process of panicking, which usually ended badly, since the last time he panicked like this was right before Lucifer fell. Father, he remembered that day all too well.<p>

Heaven was falling apart at it's seams ever since the war started, and so was Gabriel's relationship with Lucifer. They were so close, they were so close and it hurts to see his brother raging on and on about humanity. Gabriel liked the humans, for all their faults. He could see their potential, something that none of the other Angels seem to be able to do.

Gabriel tried to talk to him, he really did but no matter how hard he tried, how many times he flew back and forth from Michael to Lucifer to Michael and back they would never listen. He would fly until the feathers tear off his wings and Raphael drags him back until they were healed, and he would fly again and again and again. He talked until his throat was sore and raw and they pushed him aside time and time again.

Gabriel never gave up. But the war went on. Michael became colder, harsher, demanding Gabriel to choose either him or Lucifer, and Gabriel could not. Lucifer is his lover and Michael their eldest brother and he loves them both. He remembers Michael's sword at the tip of his throat, the first Archangel in a fit of rage with Gabriel on his knees and Raphael holding him back. If not for Raphael, Gabriel would have been dead. But even their healer drew his sword and joined the war. There is no escape, and with both Michael and Lucifer pressuring him to join a side, the first thought of leaving graced Gabriel's mind.

It scared him. It scared him so much. Heaven was his home, he belonged, with Lucifer and the other Archangels. This is a war, a full out war with sides and family tearing each other apart, fledglings barely knowing how to fly taking up swords. The first Angel to die died in the war. The first Angel to fall fell in the war. And no matter how much Gabriel begged their father refused to step in, like he planned for this all along and maybe he did. Gabriel made sure he left no sign of himself behind, opting to fly away from the backdoor of Heaven as fast as possible until he finds a vessel, and then he flew some more.

It took years, years until he found another home Asgard and Frigga and Odin, and even more years before he made sure that this realm cannot be reached by Heaven, not even through the rainbow bridge. They took him in, became his family, replaced the space left behind in his mind, but it will never be

the same. Still, Gabriel took to his new life as a trickster like fish to water. But then he had to leave. There is always a but. It was during the rise of Christianity that Gabriel returned to Earth, wave after wave of prayers calling out to him, observed as humans became prophets bound by their times and traditions.

As the demonized one brother and worshiped the others. As they slaughtered each other in the name of faith and land and wealth. He learned then, of Lucifer's final fate, one even worse than his exile. Gabriel had suspicions back in the halls of Asgard, a voice whispering in the back of his mind that he should at least check on Lucifer, know what Michael will do to him because it was clear that Michael would win, with their father on his side, ordering the Angels to bow down to the humans.

He pushed them to the back of his mind, opting to stay in the comforts of ignorance, playing pranks on the royal courts as he forgot, slowly but surely. He stood at the edge of the cage then, whispers of Devil, Devil chanted by the prayers, as Gabriel shouldered the sheer hate humans sent to his brother. He grew bitter, then. Bitter and playful as he disguised himself as Loki, the Trickster God King who punished the hurtful in fanciful, demeaning ways. It was a sort of revenge, in a way.

Gabriel, at this point, is torn about whether he wants Lucifer to gain his memories back. Without it, he is free, from the burden their family brings. But all those memories, with Gabriel and the others and Gabriel in particular, the good ones, they will be gone too and in the end Gabriel will be the only one who remembers them.

Sam Winchester falling off the bed shakes Gabriel from his thoughts.

"Ow." Sam groans.

"Ha." Gabriel snickers. Better to focus on the now rather than the past, eh?

Sam rubs his eyes. For a moment there, he was back on any other case at some backwater town's only shitty motel, running with Dean and hunting whatever monster they have on their trails. For a moment there, things were simple. The old days. And then he remembers all the shit that has happened and the moment breaks.

"Mornin' to you too, sunshine." Gabriel looks entirely too awake and entirely too smug for Sam to not want to punch in right on that grin. Not that it would do any good. He might even break his hand.

Once he did shower(and was assaulted by Gabriel's awful singing from outside the door) and set off to make himself coffee, Sam begins the usual process of finally waking up.

"Why is he still asleep?" Sam frowns from where he sits, sipping the coffee from a cup that looked far to small for his hands. Gabriel shrugs.

"Probably have something to do with the memory blockades, or something."

"Memory blockades?"

"Dad probably put it there." Gabriel sniffs, suddenly bitter about all this again. He loves his Father, he really does- he could not not love him, but he is so cryptic about everything he does.

"God blocked Lucifer's memories? But why?" Sam finishes the rest of his shitty coffee, and pokes Lucifer. Unresponsive. He pokes the sleeping Angel again.

"It's probably a test, or something." Gabriel shrugs. It's always a test. Everything is a test to his father. Nothing new here to see, move along.

"Oh."

"We better run along, Sammy. Can' t have Mikey find us."

Gabriel whistles and steps out of the door, leaving Sam to heave Lucifer up all by himself and drag him out of the room.

And suddenly, Lucifer remembers. Well, not all of it, but he does remember. Bits and pieces, flashes of strong emotion assaulting him from all ends. This is more than a dream, he can tell. There are cracks, cracks in the restraints his father set on him. He tries to break the seals, but the pain keeps him away. His father- so it was his father that spoke to him last time he dreamed.

His presence, his lack of presence, it comes in bits and pieces and Lucifer loses most of the pieces, but the sheer ecstasy of being in his father's presence and being around his brothers and the pain of the fall, and he grasps at the pieces and comes away empty handed. Most of the time, Lucifer stood there scratching away at the sigils and his hands come away bloody but the painted symbols of his father's power remains, mocking him and locking his memories away behind closed doors.

The doors fade away into the Cage, newly built and there is Michael, Michael standing above him with righteous fury etched into his face and Lucifer knows who Michael is but why Michael is doing this escapes him.

"Lucifer, Lucifer!" A voice calls, tugging at him. A warm golden glow settles against his cold.

"Gabriel!" He calls back. A constant presence. Gabriel. But then there was the war, a war that his mind did not recall but his instincts did. Michael meant danger and Gabriel meant his and Raphael meant brother. It was like his mind is being torn to pieces, memories fighting to resurface, against the cage the sigils put them in. And Lucifer is torn between wanting to know more and wanting to know nothing.

More meant reopening old wounds and uncovering things he did not want to know. More meant uncertainty, but there is a sudden thrill in uncertainty.

But nothing, nothing signified freedom, of a sort. Nothing is lighter, more bearable, the easy way to go. More, or nothing?

He lets himself fall.

"Why is he still like that?" Sam asks, eyeing Lucifer's slumped form in the battered sedan Gabriel got from somewhere. He either conjured it or stole it, but whenever Sam asks, the infuriating Archangel just winks and wags his finger like it's some great secret.

"What?" Gabriel finishes off his food alarmingly fast. Sam winces at syrup covered bacon. Dean would hate that.

"Lucifer." Sam lowers his voice. "It's been two days and he's still passed out."

"I dunno." Gabriel shrugs. These humans and their food. So inventive. But by the gods does he still miss the feasts that Asgard held thousands of years past.

"But-"

"I don't know." Gabriel points the fork at Sam. "Now stop talking, Samsquatch, and let me eat in peace, kay?" And he really does not know. He would have expected Lucifer to wake up, at least, still the blank slate he is now, still too painful to look at but at least awake and he can't help but panic, again and again-

"Okay." Sam sighs, drumming his fingers against the polished plastic surface of the table, shifting against the hard plastic seat, legs cramped uncomfortably against Gabriel's. For an Archangel, his taste is far less refined than Sam would imagine. It's hard, doing this. This being nothing because Sam can do nothing.

Dean is being possessed by Michael and Sam did nothing. He ponders, over and over again about what could have driven Dean to say yes but the answer just would not come, some twisted game he keeps playing against himself. He did practically nothing when Lucifer got taken and he can't do anything about Lucifer being unresponsive now. Sam would like to think that him and Lucifer were somewhat friends, at least. Not like Sam is much of a good friend.

"Tone down the self-loathing, Sammy. I can't eat." Gabriel grumbles, stabbing at his breakfast. The human is practically broadcasting his feelings all over, and although Gabriel is not actively reading his mind he can still feel Sam's self doubt and it reminds him too much of himself to be comfortable. Sam throws a glare at Gabriel.

"Just finish and go."

"I should drive." Sam protests when Gabriel reaches for the door.

"Why?" Gabriel turns, leaning against the car. "It's my car."

"You could get us killed!" Sam dislikes reckless drivers, ever since the car crash that totaled the impala and started it all. Even if the driver was a demon.

"I could get you killed. Me, bulletproof. Luci, basically bulletproof. Face it, Sammy, you, are just too weak to do anything." Just like Gabriel was with stopping the war. It's cruel, what he is saying, but this has been building for hours and watching Sam's face twist in rage gave the Archangel a small twinge of vindictive satisfaction in his chest. Like lashing out at himself, but better.

The rage Sam has bubbling up his gut all day bursts as he slams Gabriel against the side of the door, not caring about the fact that he can kill him with the snap of his fingers.

"Ooh, getting all dominant, aren't we? Like to think that you're in control, or something. Face it, Sammy, you're not."

"Shut up." Sam picks Gabriel up by his collar, and slams him against the door again. "You shut up-"

"What can you do if I don't? Nothing- cause all you do is nothing-" Just like how Gabriel can do nothing about the war, and he thinks that he should be more sympathetic, but the anger just reaches over and grabs at him, anger at himself and at Michael and at Lucifer and the rest of the world-

"Fuck you." Sam snarls. "You don't get to say that- what the hell did you do- what the hell can you do about Lucifer? What about Michael? Or the Apocalypse? You are just some sick fuck who likes to play games with lives cause you can't control your own life!"

They were both breathing hard and glaring at each other, with people beginning to point and stare. "Stop." Gabriel glares up. "Shut up."

"You're telling me to shut up now, huh? Cause I told the truth? You're just a coward who ran away-" Just like Sam did, but Sam is too busy being shocked by Gabriel grabbing his shirt almost violently and crushing their lips together. A desperate bid to get them to both stop talking before someone gets hurt. It was violent, unhappy, bitter and angry.

People are staring openly, gaping at the exchange. Sam pushes Gabriel off him, opting to storm speechless and red faced to the other side of the car, slamming the door and hoping silently that the milling crowd did not see Lucifer. He would rather not touch on what just happened between him and Gabriel, not with a ten foot pole.

They drive off in an uneasy silence. A storm brews at the edge of the sky.


	22. Chapter 22

"Michael!" The horseman remarks. Dean backs himself against the wall. "Really not expecting you, since Raphael raised me and all." He gestured to the dead Angels on the ground, smoked out from their vessels like demons. Cas kneels on the ground, shuddering slightly and hands gripped tight on the counter. Blue eyes sending jolts of electricity down Dean's spine. Fuck, they are both hit by whatever mojo Famine cast.

"Famine." Dean spits, forcing himself to not pull Cas away and jump him right in front of the horseman. He should have known it. Raphael raising the horsemen. It's right in front of him, all the clues and he did not even know, dammit. It's like he is too affected by being Dean, by Dean's likes and Dean's humanity that he forgot how to be an Angel, even with his grace and powers back.

"Heaven's general running around with lesser Angels? I expected better of you." The horseman hacked and coughed at the effort it takes just to talk, and a silent kind of rage gripped Dean, but at that moment he is more Michael than Dean, all power and fury as he lashed out, intending to destroy Famine. Horsemen cannot be killed, he vaguely remembers. They are neutral creatures, only raised during times of Apocalypse, and it's pretty damn obvious who raised them. Dean should have known. Heaven wants the Apocalypse just as much as hell but to raise a horseman, any of the horsemen takes blood and power and Raphael must have really lost it if he is willing to do that. And to think all this bullshit is at least partially Michael's fault really does not sit well with him.

Dean keeps his grip tight, on the wall and on Sam's knife- Sammy is gone, and he doesn't even have his damn knife- He keeps his head turned, straining his neck, so he can't see Cas. The air is hot with the tension between them, trying their damn hardest to not latch onto the other's body and fuck their brains out. Famine's snarky comments actually helps in the sense that he is such an incredible turn off that both Castiel and Dean break into cold shivers as soon as they glance at him, and Dean tells Famine that.

"I see you still have too much Dean- cough- Winchester in you- cough- not good- cough- not good at all-"

"That's cause I am Dean Winchester, you sonovabitch-" Dean yells, but a treacherous voice in his mind tells him that he would be better off being just Michael, without any of Dean's hang ups and issues-

"Now now-" Famine wags a finger, and Dean couldn't take the smug asshole anymore, and Cas seems to be just as rightfully pissed off. They launch themselves at Famine, Angel blades in hand, and Famine flings them away.

"Now listen, you imbeciles-" The horseman inspects his fingernails, having the gall to appear bored as Dean and Cas hung helplessly on the wall, choked under the horseman's powers and Dean thinks that War must have held back, because back then it was only Sam and Dean and a knife, and now it's Cas and himself, a freaking Archangel and they can't even touch Famine.

"You don't want the Apocalypse-" Castiel interrupts the horseman. Never in his life has he ever thought he would ever meet a horseman. Nor has he ever thought much at all- "None of you do- that's why Dean has War's ring-" His eyes are wide and glowing and even though Dean is struggling to get himself off the wall he couldn't help but stare and want and it's fucking embarrassing that he can't throw off Famine's mojo.

Dean picks himself off the floor after Famine whisks Cas off with a grin, dropping him back alone with a ring sitting on his hand, not looking at Cas. Sure, the horseman himself is gone and the strong desire to hump Cas like a freaking dog is gone, but he has to admit that he is just slightly pissed that Cas figured out whatever game Famine before he did. And yeah, he definitely should not be jealous that Cas is smarter than he is, but he is. Cause everyone is smarter than Dean. He's the problem, every time. He fucks up every time, leaving Sam or Bobby or Cas to pick up the mess. And it looks like Cas is doing a good job of being better than him already. And he is proud but it hurts, hurts that even as an Archangel Dean still does a shitty job.

It seems like that Famine is right. There is still too much Dean in him. Too much humanity and it's compromisingtheir mission to stop the Apocalypse. If not for Cas then they might not even have gotten Famine's ring. The mission cannot be compromised. To not be compromise the mission, he will need to stop being Dean. And, sure, something in him screams at that decision, that this is a huge mistake but he knows better. He always know better.

Michael straightens his back. He should not refer to himself as Dean. It's frighteningly easy to cut away his humanity and shove it into a box. And his relationship with Castiel cannot continue if he wishes to stop the Apocalypse. It will distract him from the true mission.

"I wish for you to refer to me Michael from now on." Castiel freezes at Dean's voice, suddenly cold and hard, grip tightening around Famine's ring.

"If we are to put a stop to the Apocalypse-" Because that is the mission now, Michael thinks, and when he has a mission in mind he works towards it. Find Sam. Find Lucifer. Stop the Apocalypse. And he will not give up now. And as much as he will deny his humanity now he still does not wish to see them destroyed. "Then our relationsmust not continue."

It hurts Dean- Michael to say that. Like ice lodged itself in his grace, where his heart should be and the pain spreads through him, cold and numbing. "From here on we are nothing more than brothers working towards a single goal."

Castiel swallows, wishing that he could burn up at that moment, on the spot. It confuses him, why Dean would suddenly want to be referred as Michael, and not Dean. Why he would suddenly want to put an end to their companionship when it brings them nothing but joy. It had all seemed so natural then, loving Dean and now- he just cannot understand- and so Castiel concludes that since the fault cannot lie with Dean it must lie with him.

"Dean- what did I do wrong- please, I can change-" Castiel begs, eyes wide.

"It's Michael!" He did not know why Cas- Castiel's begging threw him off, but it should not make him feel such turmoil. He throws Castiel against the wall, snatching Famine's ring off him and leaving. He needs to find Lucifer and Sam, and he does not need Castiel's help.

Castiel leans against the wall, the heat from Dean's hand searing his throat as he sinks to the ground. The space before him remains empty. Dean is gone.

* * *

><p>"I got the colt." Naomi reguards Zachariah cooly.<p>

"Did you get the Angel who got the colt?" Zachariah asks. He has a feeling that she didn't, not with the way the anger just seems to roll off his kid sister.

"I don't see how that is any of your business." Naomi answers.

That's a no, then. "How is our family reunion coming along there, sis?" Zachariah considers. "Raphy raisin' the horsemen yet?"

"War, Famine and Pestilence." Naomi answers dully. If this carries on the way it goes, then Death shall be raised soon. And still no sign of Michael, or Lucifer, for that matter. Really, Heaven is a mess, if the state of this plan acts as an indication. More reasons that she should be in charge, given that Naomi is probably the only Angel in this whole thing that knows how to run things. Zachariah fancies he can, that slimey bastard, but she knows better. And if there is one thing Naomi is good at that is winning.

"Well, that leaves Death, then."

Death does not like to be disturbed. It seems that Archangels do like to wake him and attempt to bind him, even though they are quite insignificant compared to him. It would have been Lucifer who bound him, but it seems like his fickle old friend changed his mind. Death raises his glass to the air, a silent toast. The story is just getting started.

Raphael watches in disdain as the demons marched across, throwing him fearful glances. Lucifer is still gone, not what he would have expected knowing his brother, but the Apocalypse must continue. So he takes Lucifer's place. Funny how it came to that. He reached for his arm and stroked the scars on there. One from Lucifer, another from Michael. It's a little strange for Raphael. He was, as the humans would say, the epitome of the middle child. Michael was the eldest, Lucifer was the most talented, Gabriel was the youngest and a prankster. That left him with essentially nothing.

The younger Angels knew that, too. They flocked to Michael and practically worshiped the ground Lucifer walks on. They played with Gabriel until he was elevated to a messenger. They stayed away from Raphael, and the lightning storm that dances across his grace. Fearsome healer, they called him, for healers are meant to be gentle and yet he is not.

But that does not matter. Nothing matters, after all. Just like how Michael ran off the radar and left him to lead Heaven without even an instruction manual. Or how Gabriel ran off after almost being killed by Michael(can't blame him on that). Or how Lucifer ran off after being let out of the Cage, leaving him to pick up the dirty work. It's almost expected, really. Raising and binding Death is surprisingly easy. The old man snaps up a table and offers Raphael pizza and the Archangel knew he was being played. But the ritual is in place and so are the bindings, and most of the demons are dead, their meatsuits sprawled on the ground, eyes burnt out and smoking. The horsemen are raised.

The Apocalypse is a delicate procedure, with years of preparation to set the plan into motion. The cherubs take the Archangel vessels and breed them so they do not run out. Raphael himself has many vessels across the world, all of them related in some ways or another. Heaven and Hell has been working towards the end game, hoping that their side would win. The Angels have power and the Demons have numbers.

But the tipping point, the signal to push the powers that be into motion, rests on the Angel's side. One Archangel, to be specific. Gabriel was Raphael's favorite brother. Perhaps it's because he is the youngest. They got along, even when their personalities were like day and night. Gabriel escaped from Heaven that night, and Raphael did not alert anyone even when he saw his brother slip away.

Gabriel is the messenger, and it is his duty to sound the horn and bring about the Apocalypse. Raphael did not wish to bring Gabriel into all this again, but if that is what has to be done, then he will do it. There is a good chance that at least they would survive this, even if Michael and Lucifer kill each other. Gabriel will need someone to help him, when it comes down to that.

He snaps his fingers, summoning the ingredients needed for the summoning. Gabriel, Archangel of Truth and Justice, the Heavenly messenger. Not that he has been that for a long time. It's time to get to work.

Gabriel and Sam fumed at each other in the broken down old car while Lucifer slumps over the backseat, blissfully unaware of the tension in the air. Not that he is in much peace, judging by the occasional thrashing around, grabbing into the air like he is trying to hold on to something and the tight lines of his body. Gabriel tightens his hold on the steering wheel. It hurts like hell to see his brother not get much peace even in sleep. They stop the car, and Sam slams the door, refusing to look at Gabriel, face still burning, the imprint of the Archangel's lips on his on fire in the night. He lost the battle, and glances to the side.

Gabriel stood there, hair framed by the moon. And Sam is lost, because the man is almost glowing under the silver light. He vaguely remembers reading somewhere that the Archangel Gabriel is tied to the moon. It fits. Something twists in his stomach and Sam's heart jumps to his throat. He shakes his head, turning away. When he turns back, the moment is lost.

Gabriel touches his mouth. What the hell was that about? One minute he was being shoved into a car by someone, who, logically, should be way less powerful than he is. Next minute he is pulling the larger man down and they were making out like teenagers in heat. Not good. Totally not good. Not good at all. Shit, shit, shit.

Okay, Gabriel reassures himself. Sam Winchester is one attractive cookie. It's perfectly natural to be attracted to him. He never really got over Lucifer, but he did have human lovers before. It's normal. Breath, Gabriel, breath, dammit.

They avoided each other awkwardly in the tiny room when Gabriel first felt the pull of the summon and panic wells up in his chest. Not just a summon for Loki, but a summon for Gabriel. Someone wants him, or knows who he is and this ancient spell to call for him. A ritual for the Archangel of Truth.

"Sam!" The air around him begins to spin, wanting to drag him away.

Sam turns to see Gabriel being pulled away by some invisible force, and he reaches up to grab the Archangel by his wrist. "What is-"

"I'm being summoned- someone knows who I am-" Gabriel answers, words being cut off by a loud, invasive ringing noise. Sam hears enough to have his heart sink to his stomach.

"Gabriel- wait-" The sound grows louder and the room begins to shake, and it's like everything, including Sam is being pulled forward into the whirlwind. Sam holds on tighter, Gabriel's fingers pressing bruises on his arm.

"Look after Lucifer!" Gabriel shouts as a bright explosion of light fills the room. He musters up every bit of the magic he gained and learned to use as a Pagan God, throwing himself as far away from whatever that is summoning him.

Sam falls to the ground, showers of glass and light and the loud ringing echoing in his skull. When he looks up, Gabriel is gone. His heart sinks further.


End file.
